SINGULAR' 
MISSSMTTH 

F.M.KINGSLEY 


THE     SINGULAR 
MISS     SMITH 


"'ANNE,'    HE   SAID,   '1    MUST   TELL   YOU   SOMETHING.'" 


THE     SINGULAR 
MISS    SMITH 


BY 


FLORENCE   MORSE   KINGSLEY 

AUTHOR    OF   "  TITUS,"    "  STEPHEN,"    "  THE   NEEDLE'S   EYE, 

"  THE  TRANSFIGURATION   OF   MISS  PHILURA," 

ETC.,   ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  WILL  GREF& 


gorfc 
THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1904 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1904, 
BY  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

COPYRIGHT,  1904, 
BY  FLORENCE  MORSE  KINGSLEY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  April,  1904.     Reprinted 
June,  twice,  1904. 


NortoooH 

J.  S.  Cnshing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


STACK 
ANNEX 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  '  Anne,'  he  said,  '  I  must  tell  you  something  ' ' 

Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

"  '  So  Dr.  Galletin  told  you  that  he  meant  to  ask 

me  to  marry  him  ?  '  '  .         .         ,         .26 

"  '  Have  you  any  reference  ? ' '  .         .         -44 

"  A  young  and  extremely  pretty  woman  entered  "       78 

"  '  You  are  growing  into  the  cleverest  little  house 
keeper,  dear,'  he  to)d  her  "   .         .         .         .98 

"  He  pulled  off  his  glasses  and  stared  at  me  "      .     150 


THE  SINGULAR  MISS  SMITH 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  president  of  the  Ontological  Club  tapped 
for  order,  her  eyes  behind  their  gold-mounted 
glasses  dwelling  blandly  on  the  animated  scene 
before  her.  "  Our  dear  women  are  manifesting 
a  really  unprecedented  interest  in  this  our  first 
sociological  study  of  the  season,"  she  murmured 
in  the  ear  of  Dr.  Aurilla  Robinson-Cobb,  who 
occupied  the  seat  of  honor  at  her  right  hand. 

Dr.  Robinson-Cobb  elevated  her  brows  tenta 
tively.  "  The  question  may  be  justly  considered 
a  vital  one,  as  causally  related  to  the  Cosmos  and 
to  the  individual,"  she  replied  in  a  rumbling  voice 
suggestive  of  abysmal  deeps  of  wisdom. 

Dr.  Robinson-Cobb  —  to  use  her  own  lucid 
phrase  —  had,  in  the  process  of  her  unfoldment, 
reached  a  plane  above  and  beyond  that  occupied 
by  the  generality  of  female  clubs.  And  while, 
of  course,  she  understood  perfectly  that  there  is 


2  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

no  sex  in  mind,  she  was  inclined  to  prefer  (as  an 
audience)  that  manifestation  of  mind  which  sees 
fit  to  array  itself  in  trousers. 

The  subject  of  the  afternoon,  as  announced  by 
the  secretary  of  the  Club,  a  well-developed  lady 
who  appeared  to  be  hermetically  sealed  in  a 
lavender  broadcloth  gown,  was  an  eminently 
practical  question :  "  Why  do  American  women 
of  the  laboring  class  decline,  as  a  rule,  to  enter 
domestic  service  ? " 

As  intimately  correlated  to  the  question  Dr. 
Aurilla  Robinson-Cobb  had  been  persuaded  to 
deliver  before  the  Ontological  Club  her  celebrated 
lecture  on  "  The  primal  relation  of  Woman  to  the 
evolution  of  the  Cosmos."  The  number  of  multi- 
syllabled  words  employed  by  the  lecturer  in  the 
course  of  her  address  was  gratifyingly  large. 
When  at  last  she  took  her  seat,  the  Ontological 
Club,  as  a  body,  heaved  a  furtive  sigh  of  gratitude 
and  exhaustion  ;  individually  they  exchanged  hypo 
critical  whispers  to  the  effect  that  they  had  enjoyed 
an  inestimable  privilege. 

The  lecturer,  pleasantly  conscious  of  having 
created  a  sensation,  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  eying 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  3 

the  Club  with  the  air  of  a  learned  professor  matu- 
tinally  obliged  to  steel  himself  against  the  crass 
stupidity  of  his  pupils.     The  "general  discussion ' 
had  been  announced  and  was  about  to  begin. 

There  was  a  short  period  of  silence,  during 
which  the  president  assured  Dr.  Robinson-Cobb, 
sotto  voce,  that  our  dear  women  were  so  apprecia 
tive  ;  she  felt  sure  that  they  had  been  awed  into 
silence  by  the  lofty  ideas  presented  in  the  course  of 
the  lecture. 

Dr.  Robinson-Cobb  compressed  her  lips,  but  it 
was  evident  that  this  idea  was  not  wholly  displeas 
ing;  she  therefore  consciously  relaxed  her  mental 
attitude  with  immediate  results.  A  small  lady, 
wearing  very  large,  luminous  spectacles,  which 
seemed  to  point  to  a  corresponding  development 
of  brain  structure,  arose  and  begged  leave  to 
address  the  assemblage.  It  became  subsequently 
evident  that  in  the  opinion  of  the  small  lady 
with  spectacles  American  women  of  the  laboring 
class  would  gladly  lend  themselves  to  the  uplift 
ing  influence  of  the  more  illumined  individuals, 
who  formed  the  so-called  upper  classes,  if  they 
could  be  induced  to  realize  their  primal  relation- 


4  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

ship  to  the  Cosmos.  The  proper  and  indeed  the 
only  plane  of  life  on  which  this  necessary  realiza 
tion  could  be  accomplished  was  manifestly  the 
plane  of  domestic  labor.  The  American  kitchen 
should  be  —  must  be — eagerly  sought  by  the  labor 
ing  woman,  as  the  arena  in  which  to  develop  the 
germ  of  the  psychic  existence.  She  warmly  rec 
ommended,  as  a  practical  measure,  that  the 
eloquent  and  convincing  address  of  the  after 
noon  presented  by  Dr.  Aurilla  Robinson-Cobb 
should  be  published  at  the  expense  of  the  Onto- 
logical  Club,  and  that  a  copy  should  be  placed 
in  the  outstretched  hand  of  the  American  labor 
ing  woman. 

She  gracefully  quoted  in  closing  that  weighty 
saying  of  Emerson's,  "  We  are  used  as  brute 
atoms  until  we  think,  then  we  use  all  the  rest." 
The  large  glasses  seemed  positively  to  emit  rays 
of  wisdom  as  their  wearer  triumphantly  enun 
ciated  :  — 

"As  thinkers,  elevated  upon  the  mountain 
heights  of  inspiration,  women  of  the  Ontological 
Club,  it  is  our  manifest  duty  to  use  the  brute 
atom  —  to  conform  it  to  our  higher  needs.  Let 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  5 

us  then  seize  the  psychic  instant,  and  mould 
into  sentient  beauty  this  our  part  of  the  eternal 
macrocosm !  " 

A  subdued  rustle  of  silk-lined  garments,  a  buzz 
of  whispered  exclamations,  and  a  reverential 
elevation  of  lorgnettes  greeted  this  burst  of  elo 
quence.  Even  the  great  Dr.  Robinson-Cobb  was 
seen  to  be  visibly  moved.  She  frowned  judi 
cially,  ahemed  in  a  masculine  manner,  and  nodded 
thrice. 

It  was  at  this  psychic  instant  that  our  story 
really  begins.  "Ladies"  —  the  president  of  the 
Ontological  Club  was  speaking  with  that  unctuous 
tranquillity  which  marked  her  every  action  —  "  the 
Chair  cannot  forbear  voicing  the  very  general 
gratification  in  view  of  the  elevated  trend  which 
our  discussion  has  taken.  As  I  have  often  de 
clared  from  this  platform,  one  cannot  too  often 
subject  one's  entire  being  to  the  direct  rays  of 
Truth.  After  listening  to  the  inspirational  ut 
terances  of  the  afternoon,  I  feel  that  I  for  one 
cannot  help  advancing  to  a  higher  plane  of 
thought  than  I  have  yet  occupied.  We  have 
still  remaining  twenty  precious  minutes;  if  there 


6  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

is  any  one  present  who  can  add  to  what  has  been 
said,  we  shall  be  glad  to  listen  now  [a  thrilling 
pause].  If  not,  we  will  attend  to  the  reading  of 
the  notices,  after  which  I  trust  that  every  member 
of  the  Club  will  remain  for  an  hour  of  social 
communion  with  the  distinguished  guest  of  the 
afternoon,  Dr.  Aurilla  Robinson-Cobb.  Ah,  Miss 
Smith !  Ladies,  Miss  Smith  has  the  floor." 

Fifty  pairs  of  eyes  followed  the  august  motion 
of  the  presiding  officer's  head  and  became  fixed 
with  mingled  curiosity  and  disapproval  upon  the 
tall  slender  figure  of  a  young  woman  who  had 
risen  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  She  began 
slowly,  almost  appealingly.  "  The  question  of 
the  afternoon  is  'Why  do  American  women  of 
the  laboring  class  decline,  as  a  rule,  to  enter 
domestic  service  ? '  We  have  been  told  that  it 
is  because  they  do  not  realize  their  primal  rela 
tionship  to  the  Cosmos.  Perhaps  this  is  true,  if 
we  could  possibly  understand  what  the  Cosmos 
is,  and  what  we  ourselves  are.  I  confess  that  I 
do  not  understand  either." 

An  eager  stir  pervaded  the  assemblage.  The 
small  lady  with  the  luminous  spectacles,  in  par- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  7 

ticular,  seemed  almost  unable  to  keep  her  seat. 
Miss  Smith  continued :  "  I  have  made  full  notes 
of  several  lectures  to  which  I  have  listened  in 
this  room,  describing  the  Cosmos  in  detail,  and 
defining  ourselves  as  'spiritual  entities/  'centres 
of  energy,'  'individualized  mind,'  'rays  of  truth,' 
and  so  on ;  but  in  spite  of  it  all,  I  am  quite  sure 
I  have  so  far  failed  to  realize  my  primal  relation 
ship  to  my  kitchen,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rest 
of  the  Cosmos. 

"  I  fear  I  am  speaking  very  bluntly,  and  I  am 
sure  you  think  me  very  stupid ;  but  I  have  often 
heard  here  that  Mind  is  ageless  and  knows  no 
limit,  so  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  saying 
just  what  I  think,  though  I  am  so  much  younger 
than  the  other  members  of  the  Club." 

A  rustle  of  ill-concealed  indignation  followed 
this  unlucky  phrase.  Mrs.  J.  Mortimer  Van 
Denser,  a  portly  lady  of  majestic  demeanor, 
was  heard  to  murmur  that  the  girl  was  "really 
impossible." 

"  Why,"  urged  Miss  Smith,  her  gray  eyes  fixed 
earnestly  on  the  dismayed  president  of  the  Onto- 
logical  Club,  "  do  we  not  ask  the  laboring  women 


8  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

this  question,  instead  of  talking  among  ourselves 
about  the  Cosmos,  which  I  am  sure  they  never 
even  heard  of  ?  They  must  have  good  reasons 
for  not  liking  to  work  in  our  homes  instead  of 
stifling  in  those  dreadful  sweat-shops  and  factories, 
where  they  are  obliged  to  work  much  harder.  If 
they  would  tell  us  just  what  they  do  not  like 
about  domestic  service,  could  we  not  remedy  the 
condition  and  make  our  homes  pleasant  places 
in  which  to  work  ?  " 

The  young  woman  paused,  as  if  waiting  for  an 
answer  to  this  question,  and  the  lady  with  the 
luminous  spectacles  begged,  caustically,  to  be 
allowed  to  ask  the  speaker  a  question.  "Will 
Miss  Smith  be  so  very  kind  as  to  suggest  a 
method  by  which  the  Ontological  Club  may  bring 
about  this  happy  result?  To  put  it  plainly,  are 
we  to  invite  our  cooks,  housemaids,  and  factory 
girls  to  attend  a  session  of  the  Ontological  Club 
and  discuss  the  question  on  the  open  floor  ? " 

A  wave  of  whispered  protest  swept  over  the 
room,  to  subside  at  a  gentle  reminder  from  the 
Chair.  "  Ladies,  I  beg  to  remind  you  that  Miss 
Smith  has  the  floor  !  " 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  9 

That  young  lady  was  regarding  the  luminous 
spectacles  with  a  puzzled  expression.  "  I  think," 
she  said  slowly,  "  that  the  suggestion  is  a  very 
good  one,  if  they  —  I  mean  the  cooks  and  factory 
girls  —  could  possibly  be  honest  here."  After 
which  she  sat  down,  feeling  vaguely  sore  and 
discomfited. 

During  the  social  hour  which  followed,  Miss 
Smith  found  herself  the  object  of  much  curious 
attention  on  the  part  of  numbers  of  full-fed 
elderly  ladies  who  regarded  her  dubiously  from 
strongly  intrenched  positions  behind  their  tea 
cups.  At  length  Mrs.  J.  Mortimer  Van  Deuser 
was  seen  to  bear  down  on  the  young  person  like 
a  deep-freighted  galleon  under  full  sail.  "  My 
dear  Miss  Smith,"  she  said  sonorously,  "do  you 
realize  that  you  are  really  quite  the  sensation  of 
the  afternoon  ?  I  am  sure  we  all  desire  nothing 
more  devoutly  than  to  make  a  wise  use  of  those 
powers  developed  in  the  higher  phases  of  human 
experience.  But  you  must  allow  one  wiser  in 
this  world's  knowledge  than  you  seem  to  be,  my 
love,  to  tell  you  that  we  cannot  hope  to  treat 
with  the  laboring  classes  on  our  own  plane  of 


IO  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

thought.  To  use  Dr.  Robinson-Cobb's  beautiful 
simile,  we  who  have  become  individualized  centres 
of  power  —  suns  —  in  the  mighty  mazes  of  the 
Cosmos  must  not  only  illumine  but  control  the 
blind  atoms  which  circle  about  us  in  aeonian 
darkness.  Of  course  after  ages  of  evolution 
gained  through  countless  reincarnations  the  un 
intelligent  beings  who  compose  the  masses  may 
gain  the  heights  we  now  occupy.  But  at  pres 
ent,  believe  me,  my  dear  child,  it  is  really  a  mis 
taken  —  indeed  I  may  say  an  ignorant  kindness  — 
if  such  a  contradiction  in  terms  may  be  per 
mitted  in  metaphysics  —  to  attempt  to  elevate  the 
masses." 

"  I  am  sure  I  never  thought  of  trying  to  elevate 
the  masses,"  said  Miss  Smith,  simply;  "but  I 
should  like  to  help  poor  girls  who  need  it." 

Mrs.  Van  Deuser  sighed  deeply,  then  her  face 
lighted  up.  She  lifted  her  lorgnette  and  studied 
the  candid  young  face  before  her.  "  My  dear 
child,"  she  ejaculated  with  feeling,  "this  is  really 
providential.  You  know  I  am  president  of  the 
board  of  managers  of  the  Protestant  Evangelical 
Refuge  for  aged,  indigent,  and  immoral  females. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  n 

The  needs  of  this  excellent  institution  are  very 
great  at  present.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  add  you 
to  our  Committee  on  Ways  and  Means." 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  I  tried  being  on 
a  board  of  managers  once,"  she  said  decidedly. 
"I  didn't  like  it.  And"  —her  young  face  flush 
ing  brightly  —  "I  couldn't  talk  to  those  dread 
ful  women,  I  am  sure.  I  should  like  to  help  to 
keep  them  from  being  dreadful.  It  seems  so 
much  more  sensible,  don't  you  think  it  does  ? " 

Mrs.  Van  Deuser  drew  herself  up  for  an  instant 
and  stared  hard  at  the  misguided  young  person, 
as  she  mentally  termed  Miss  Smith.  Then  her 
face  wreathed  itself  in  a  forgiving  smile.  "  My 
dear,  dear  child,"  she  murmured.  "You  are  so 
like  your  father  !  " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Anne  Smith. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  story  of  Anne  Elizabeth  Smith,  previous  to 
the  psychic  instant  before  mentioned,  was  suffi 
ciently  commonplace.  Her  mother,  never  more 
than  a  vague  though  passionately  loved  memory, 
was  associated  chiefly  with  the  miniature  of  a 
sweet-faced,  smiling  woman,  worn  always  at  her 
neck.  At  uncertain  intervals  her  father,  a  big, 
silent  man,  would  ascend  to  the  prim  nursery  on 
the  third  floor,  and,  setting  his  motherless  daughter 
on  his  big  knee,  regard  her  attentively,  kiss  her 
solemnly,  and  talk  to  her  briefly  in  a  deep,  rum 
bling  voice. 

These  memorable  occasions  meant  even  more  to 
Anne  than  the  miniature.  Little  passed  in  the 
way  of  words  between  the  silent  child  and  the 
silent  man.  A  curious  housemaid  once  surveyed 
the  scene  through  a  convenient  keyhole.  "  Missy 
had  been  goin'  on  somethin'  fierce  that  afternoon," 
said  this  individual,  when  reporting  her  experience 

12 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  13 

to  a  fellow-servant.  "  Nurse  told  her  as  how 
she  'd  ought  to  be  'shamed  of  herself  'cause  her 
angel  ma  was  a-watchin'  of  her  from  heaven  every 
minute.  '  You  're  a  person  that  tells  lies,'  says 
Missy;  'an'  you'll  have  your  part  with  dogs 
and  sorcerers.  It  says  so  in  the  Bible.  My 
mamma  never  looks  down  on  this  nursery.  If 
she  did,  she  couldn't  keep  from  crying  'cause 
I  'm  so  lonesome,  and  you  know  well  enough  that 
people  don't  cry  in  heaven.' 

" '  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  call  your  Aunt  Nugent,' 
says  nurse.  '  An'  I  don't  care  if  you  call  fifty 
Aunt  Nugents/  says  Missy.  With  that  she  up 
and  smashes  her  best  doll  on  the  fender  —  the 
one  her  aunt  give  her  for  Christmas —  and  stamps 
on  the  pieces.  Nurse  was  that  afraid  of  her  that 
she  sent  me  to  call  Mis'  Nugent,  an'  she  come 
an'  took  off  her  ma's  picture  for  a  punishment. 
You  could  have  heard  Missy  scream  in  the  base 
ment.  Just  then  in  comes  her  pa,  quiet  and 
unexpected-like,  and  turns  us  all  out.  '  I  do  hope? 
says  Mrs.  Nugent,  almost  a-cryin',  'that  you'll 
punish  this  naughty,  naughty  child  as  she  de 
serves.'  '  I  will,'  he  says,  and  takes  the  picture 


14  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

from  her  an'  hangs  it  back  on  Missy's  neck. 
After  that  they  set  down,  the  two  of  'em,  afore 
the  fire,  not  sayin'  a  word  as  I  could  hear.  The 
next  day  Master  give  his  orders  that  nobody 
was  ever  to  touch  the  picture  of  Missy's  mother 
again." 

Subsequent  interviews  were  not  reported.  They 
ceased  altogether  when  Anne  was  fourteen.  If 
the  girl  mourned  the  event  which  orphaned  her, 
no  one  in  the  big  gloomy  house  was  the  wiser 
for  it.  Mrs.  Nugent,  the  distant  relative  on  her 
mother's  side,  who  had  supposedly  filled  the  ma 
ternal  hiatus  in  the  past,  dutifully  shed  tears 
enough  for  two  while  complacently  adjusting  her 
self  to  her  new  and  handsome  mourning  toilets, 
and  the  certainty  of  a  comfortable  future  assured 
her  by  the  provisions  of  the  dead  man's  last  will 
and  testament. 

Mrs.  Nugent  was  a  mild,  billowy  person,  whose 
desires  and  ambitions  were  distinctly  circum 
scribed  by  a  cushioned  chair,  a  silk  gown  of 
superior  texture,  a  warm  knitted  shawl,  a  sweet, 
sad  love  story,  and  the  tender  breast  of  a  young 
chicken  properly  cooked.  She  had  always  sup- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  15 

posed  herself  to  be  permeated  with  the  fondest 
maternal  feelings  for  her  young  charge,  and  cher 
ished  a  vague  purpose  of  doing  her  duty  by  the 
child  under  all  circumstances,  however  trying. 
She  was  an  extremely  religious  woman  of  the 
variety  which  delights  in  devotional  books  of  a 
sentimentally  theological  turn,  and  she  piously 
thanked  the  Deity  for  all  his  many  blessings, 
temporal  and  spiritual,  with  the  most  praiseworthy 
regularity. 

Of  the  black-haired,  gray-eyed  girl,  who  was 
the  more  immediate  source  of  the  blessings  in 
question,  Mrs.  Nugent  was  by  this  time  quite 
frankly  afraid.  On  the  evening  of  the  funeral 
as  the  two  sat  together  before  the  fire,  certain 
uneasy  stirrings  in  that  portion  of  her  com 
fortable  structure  set  apart  by  the  excellent 
Mrs.  Nugent  for  the  exclusive  use  of  conscience 
informed  her  the  time  had  come  for  a  serious 
talk  with  the  gir].  "My  dearest  Annchen,"  she 
began  accordingly,  "  the  lawyers  will  have  told 
you  that  you  are  a  very  rich  girl."  The  good 
woman  paused  tentatively,  but  as  Anne  made 
no  reply,  she  proceeded  in  her  gentle  minor 


1 6  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

staccato.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  your  poor  dear 
papa  was  so  wealthy  a  man.  It  will  place  a 
great  responsibility  on  your  young  shoulders,  my 
dear,  —  not  that  you  will  have  the  control 
of  the  property  yet,  of  course ;  but  it  all 
comes  to  you  when  you  are  eighteen  —  much 
too  young,  I  should  have  said,  had  your  poor 
father  consulted  me,  which  he  seldom  did.  I 
do  hope,  my  dear  Annchen,  that  you  will  re 
member  quite  particularly  to  kneel  down  every 
night  by  your  bedside  and  repeat  your  prayers. 
I  have  ordered  Jane  to  carry  my  best  copy  of 
'  Dr.  Pilkington's  Evening  Reflections '  to  your 
room.  Do  read  in  it  regularly,  my  child.  I 
shall  feel  far  safer  and  more  comfortable  about 
your  future  if  you  promise  me  that  much." 

"  I  should  like  you  to  feel  comfortable,  Aunt 
Nugent,"  said  the  girl,  coldly.  "  But  please 
don't  call  me  Annchen  again." 

Mrs.  Nugent's  pink-lidded  eyes  drooped 
confusedly.  "  Your  father  sometimes  called 
you  Annchen,"  she  faltered.  "I  hoped  —  I 
thought  —  " 

Anne  waited  a  dutiful  length  of  time  for  the 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  17 

lady  to  finish  her  sentence,  then  she  said  quietly : 
"You  thought  I  would  like  you  to  call  me 
what  father  did ;  but  you  are  mistaken.  Thank 
you  for  the  book,  Aunt  Nugent ;  if  it  will  make 
you  any  happier  I  will  read  it.  I  think  you  are 
the  only  person  in  the  world  who  cares  at  all 
what  I  do." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear,"  twittered  Mrs.  Nugent, 
quite  appeased ;  "  there  are  the  lawyers,  you 
know,  and  the  clergyman  and  his  wife,  and, 
oh,  ever  so  many  persons.  With  all  your  papa's 
money  you  will  be  quite  an  important  person 
some  day.  And  if  you  remember  to  repeat 
your  prayers  and  to  read  dear  Dr.  Pilkington 
regularly,  I  am  sure  you  will  grow  up  quite  as 
you  should." 

Their  subsequent  intercourse  never  again  fell 
into  so  intimate  and  personal  a  tone.  The 
matter  of  the  prayers  was  somehow  definitely 
dropped  then  and  there.  And  try  as  she  might, 
Mrs.  Nugent  had  not  been  able  to  steer  the 
conversation  on  to  the  subject  of  "  Dr.  Pilking- 
ton's  Evening  Reflections."  "  I  really  must  do 
my  duty  by  the  child,"  she  told  herself  for  the 
c 


1 8  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

thousandth  time,  and  despatched  her  maid 
with  an  attractive  blue-and-gold  copy  of  "  Ser 
mons  to  the  Young,"  for  Miss  Anne's  table. 
Luckily  Mrs.  Nugent  had  been  led  in  her  youth 
to  place  sincere  confidence  in  what  she  was 
pleased  to  term  "  silent  influence,"  and  inas 
much  as  the  exercise  of  this  potent  function  in 
no  way  interfered  with  the  placid  consumption 
of  food  and  fiction,  she  found  it  on  the  whole 
the  most  convenient  and  desirable  way  of  deal 
ing  with  her  young  charge. 

Anne  Smith  therefore  pursued  the  tenor  of 
her  way  with  little  active  interference  from 
without.  She  chose  her  own  school  and  at 
tended  it  regularly,  exhibiting  a  surprising 
mixture  of  docility  and  stubbornness  in  her  rela 
tions  with  her  teachers,  which  led  them  to  label 
her  rather  dubiously  as  "a  girl  of  character." 
Subsequently  she  graduated  from  a  prominent 
university  where  she  attracted  the  least  possible 
attention.  Her  work  was  always  well  though 
not  brilliantly  performed ;  for  the  rest  she  was 
simply  a  silent,  observant  on-looker,  attracting 
few  acquaintances  and  no  real  friends. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  19 

She  realized  this  with  a  sickening  shock  on 
the  day  of  her  graduation,  as  she  stared  with 
frowning  eyes  at  two  costly  baskets  of  flowers 
sent  respectively  by  Mrs.  Nugent  and  the  firm 
of  lawyers  who  managed  the  estate.  "  I  am  - 
different  —  some  way,"  she  told  herself. 

Mrs.  Nugent  was  surprised  and  delighted 
with  the  more  immediate  effects  of  the  higher 
education  on  her  young  charge,  who  now  took 
her  place  as  mistress  of  the  great  Smith  man 
sion  on  Beacon  Street, 

"  This  house  seems  dull  and  gloomy,  aunt," 
said  Miss  Anne,  on  the  day  after  her  home 
coming.  "What  can  we  do  to  make  it  look 
more  like  other  people's  houses  ? " 

Mrs.  Nugent  sank  into  her  favorite  arm-chair 
before  replying.  "  The  house  is  very  well  fur 
nished,  my  dear,"  she  said  plaintively,  "  and  I 
have  always  found  it  very  comfortable.  I  have 
kept  it  as  nearly  as  possible  just  as  your  dear 
father  and  mother  arranged  it  thirty-five  years 
ago." 

Anne  Smith's  brows  contracted.  "  I  shall  not 
interfere  with  father's  library  —  nor  with  your 


2O  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

rooms,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  mean  to  make  the 
rest  of  the  place  different." 

The  general  renovation  and  refurnishing 
which  followed  completely  absorbed  the  young 
mistress  of  the  house  for  several  months. 
"  Now  I  am  going  to  have  a  party,"  she  an 
nounced  abruptly,  when  all  was  finished. 

"  A  party  ? "  echoed  Mrs.  Nugent,  weakly. 
"  Why,  of  course,  how  thoughtless  of  me !  I 
have  grown  so  accustomed  to  thinking  you  quite 
different  from  other  girls,  my  love,  that  it  never 
occurred  to  me  that  you —  A  coming-out 
party,  of  course.  But  I  know  so  few  people, 
my  dear,  —  socially,  I  mean.  You  know,  I  have 
not  been  going  out  of  late.  How  shall  we 
manage  ? " 

"We  shall  manage  very  well,"  said  Anne, 
calmly.  "  I  have  asked  Mrs.  Taunton  to  give 
the  invitations.  The  decorators  and  caterers  will 
do  the  rest." 

The  party  was  said  to  be  a  success.  A  great 
many  people  came.  "  Quite  the  best  people,  too," 
observed  Mrs.  Nugent,  complacently.  The  flowers 
were  superb,  the  music  excellent,  and  the  supper 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  21 

room  lavish  in  its  appointments.  Anne  Smith 
stood  slim  and  tall  in  her  white  dress  between 
her  two  chaperons  and  received  her  guests.  She 
smiled  determinedly  on  everybody  while  gripping 
her  bouquet  in  an  agony  of  shyness. 

"  I  will  not  be  different !  "  she  told  herself  in 
her  own  room  when  everything  was  at  last  over. 
"Oh,  mother — mother  —  mother!"  A  bit  of 
painted  ivory  is  a  poor  substitute  for  a  living 
mother  ;  but  this  particular  fragment  might  well 
have  been  living  by  this  time,  so  long  had  it  lain 
over  the  girl's  passionate  heart. 

The  firm  determination  to  be  like  other  girls 
carried  her  through  two  seasons.  Society  re 
ceived  her,  if  not  exactly  with  open  arms,  at  least 
with  complaisance.  Was  she  not  a  Smith  of  the 
Smiths,  and  did  she  not  represent  a  solid  power 
which  the  world  has  never  yet  despised  ?  It  was 
said  of  her  at  this  time  by  divers  individuals  of 
judgment  and  discrimination,  that  while  Anne 
Smith  was  not  in  the  least  beautiful,  nor  even 
pretty,  she  possessed  a  decided  distinction  of  face 
and  manner ;  that  her  gray  eyes  were  undoubtedly 
her  best  feature,  but  it  was  a  pity  she  had  con- 


22  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

tracted  the  habit  of  appearing  to  look  one  through 
clear  to  the  spinal  column.  "  It  was  enough  to 
give  one  the  shivers,  don't  you  know !  "  That 
she  was  too  highly  educated  ever  to  be  a  society 
success ;  that  she  was  utterly  lacking  in  savoir 
faire  —  and  finally  —  a  damning  word  —  that  she 
was  so  "  different "  from  other  girls  that  she 
frightened  the  men. 

Poor  Anne !  All  these  carping  voices  reached 
her  inner  consciousness  with  that  unerring  dis 
tinctness  upon  which  scientific  persons  are  actu 
ally  beginning  to  count.  "  I  am  different,"  she 
at  last  confessed  to  the  miniature.  "  And  I  can't 
help  it."  This  after  a  ball,  where  she  had  spent 
the  greater  part  of  the  evening  trying  to  talk 
brightly  to  the  elderly  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
fringed  the  scene  like  the  sober  calyx  of  a  gay 
blossom. 

"  Why  are  n't  you  dancing,  my  dear  ? "  de 
manded  a  friend  of  her  father's. 

"  Because  nobody  asked  me,"  said  honest 
Anne. 

"  Nobody  asked  you !  Gad !  what  are  our 
young  men  thinking  of  ?  If  I  was  a  bit  younger, 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  23 

I  'd  show  'em  what  a  man  of  taste  and  sense 
ought  to  do  without  being  told.  Yes,  by  George, 
I  would ! " 

In  a  subsequent  interview  with  his  son,  this 
indiscreet  old  gentleman  still  further  endeavored 
to  champion  poor  Anne's  cause.  "  Do  you  know, 
young  fellow,  what  that  girl  is  worth  in  solid 
millions?"  he  demanded  excitedly. 

"  Money  is  n't  everything,"  quoth  the  sapient 
young  man. 

"  Who  said  it  was,  sir  ? "  thundered  his  father. 
"  The  girl  has  brains  and  education,  and  she 's 
handsomer  by  half  than  that  pink-faced  chit 
you  've  been  hanging  about  this  winter." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  want  me  to  marry 
Anne  Smith  ? " 

"And  if  I  do,  why  not,  sir,  I  should  like  to 
know  ? " 

"There  is  no  reason  at  all,  sir,  except  that  I  'm 
going  to  marry  the  pink-faced  chit !  I  prefer 
'chits'  to  icebergs,  myself." 

Anne  Smith  was  the  very  antipode  of  an  ice 
berg  ;  but  how  was  the  ordinary  young  man,  poorly 
furnished  with  intuitional  faculties,  to  find  this  out  ? 


24  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

It  was  shortly  after  this,  in  a  fit  of  sheer  desper 
ation,  that  she  joined  the  Ontological  Club,  and 
began  to  attend  Monday  lectures  and  Tuesday 
classes  and  Thursday  sewing  circles.  About  this 
time  also  the  treasurers  of  various  charitable  boards 
and  church  benevolences  began  to  receive  large 
anonymous"  contributions.  And  all  this  brings  us 
quite  naturally  to  the  hour  when  Anne  Smith 
came  home  from  the  meeting  of  the  Ontological 
Club,  still  feeling  vaguely  sore  and  discomfited. 

There  was  a  pasteboard  box  in  her  room  when 
she  entered  it  in  the  glowing  winter  twilight. 
The  maid  called  her  mistress's  attention  to  it  as 
she  removed  her  wraps,  and  lingered  to  stir  the 
fire  to  a  brighter  glow.  "The  letter  came  with  it, 
Miss  Smith,"  said  the  girl,  glancing  curiously  at 
her  young  lady  who  received  so  few  letters  and 
damp  boxes  bearing  florists'  names. 

"  I  will  look  at  it  presently,"  said  Anne,  absent- 
mindedly.  "You  are  an  American,  are  you  not, 
Lizzie  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  ma'am,  I  'm  English,"  said  the  girl, 
proudly.  "  I  was  born  in  America,  to  be  sure,  but 
I  don't  count  that,  miss." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  25 

"You  don't  wish  to  count  it,  you  mean,"  con 
tinued  Anne,  smiling  faintly.  "Are  you  quite 
happy  here  ?  I  mean,  do  you  like  being  out  at 
service?  " 

The  girl  blushed.  "  I  'm  sure  you  've  always 
been  that  kind  to  me,  Miss  Smith,  I  've  nothin'  to 
complain  of." 

"  I  've  tried  to  be  kind,"  said  Anne,  seriously, 
"  but  that  is  n't  answering  my  question.  Do 
you  like  the  work  you  are  doing  in  my  house, 
Lizzie  ?  I  wish  you  would  be  quite  frank  with 
me." 

"  I  would  n't  be  denyin'  that  everybody  has  their 
own  troubles  off  and  on,  miss,"  said  the  girl, 
vaguely ;  "  but  they  ain't  wuth  the  tellin',  an' 
I  'm  as  contented  as  most."  With  that  she  closed 
the  door  softly  behind  her,  leaving  her  mistress 
to  the  contemplation  of  the  pasteboard  box  and 
the  thick  square  letter  directed  to  Miss  Anne 
Elizabeth  Smith  in  a  bold,  masculine  hand. 

The  box  contained  roses,  long-stemmed,  heavy- 
headed  pink  roses,  emitting  a  delicious  musky 
odor  and  half  smothered  in  fern.  The  girl  ex 
perienced  a  genuine  throb  of  pleasure  as  she 


26  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

bent  over  them.  "Who  could  have  sent  them  to 
me  ?  "  she  murmured. 

The  question  was  answered  by  the  narrow  strip 
of  pasteboard  which  had  modestly  hidden  itself 
behind  a  half-opened  bud.  "  Rev.  Frederick  Gal- 
latin,"  she  read,  and  wondered.  She  wondered 
still  more  when  she  opened  the  letter  and  found 
the  same  name  signed  to  its  four  closely  written 
pages. 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  Mrs.  Nugent,  in  quite 
a  pretty  flutter  of  cap-ribbons  and  maternal  agita 
tion,  knocked  at  her  niece's  door,  she  was  admitted 
without  hesitation. 

"  Oh,  may  I  come  in,  my  love  ?  "  chirruped  Mrs. 
Nugent,  excitedly.  "  Of  course  I  would  n't  intrude 
for  the  world  —  at  a  sacred  moment  like  this, 
you  know,  but  really,  my  dear,  it  came  over  me 
all  in  a  moment  just  how  you  must  be  feeling, 
and  I  could  n't  help  — ' 

Anne  looked  down  on  the  small  billowy  person 
of  her  relative  with  unfeigned  surprise,  "  I  can't 
think  what  you  are  talking  about,  Aunt  Nugent," 
she  said,  calmly  folding  and  returning  the  letter 
to  its  envelope. 


, 


'So  DR.  GALLETIN  TOLD  YOU  THAT  UK  MEANT  TO  ASK  ME  TO 

MARRY    HIM  ?  '" 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  27 

"  Oh,  you  shy,  naughty  girl !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nu 
gent,  with  a  playful  gesture  of  triumph.  "  Pray 
don't  think  you  can  conceal  anything  from  me ! 
Dear  Dr.  Gallatin  was  here  this  afternoon  and 
we  had  a  long,  long,  confidential  talk."  Mrs. 
Nugent's  voice  dropped  to  a  solemn  monotone 
with  her  concluding  words.  "  My  dear  child,  that 
man  is  an  angel,  and  you  are  a  happy  woman." 

Anne  Smith  drew  her  delicate  black  brows 
together.  "  So  Dr.  Gallatin  told  you  that  he 
meant  to  ask  me  to  marry  him?"  she  said  coldly. 

"  He  asked  my  advice  and  my  permission,  cer 
tainly,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nugent,  clutching 
vainly  after  her  vanishing  composure.  "That 
was  quite  proper,  don't  you  feel  it  so,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  was/'  said  Anne,  staring  moodily 
into  the  glowing  heart  of  the  fire.  "  Do  you 
advise  me  to  marry  him,  Aunt  Nugent  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  how  can  you  put  it  so  coldly  ? " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Nugent,  excitedly.  "  My  prayers 
for  you  are  all  going  to  be  answered.  I  'm  sure 
I  had  n't  hoped  for  such  a  blessing.  As  I  told 
dear  Dr.  Gallatin,  I  feel  sure  this  is  a  direct  lead 
ing  of  Providence,  and  to  think  that  /  may  have 


28  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

been  the  humble  instrument  in  the  hands  of  a 
Higher  Power." 

"Then  you  do  advise  me  to  marry  him?"  per 
sisted  Anne,  looking  curiously  at  the  carefully 
powdered,  flaccid  curves  of  Mrs.  Nugent's  face. 
"  Why  do  you  advise  it  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  do,  my  dear.  You  are  so  different 
from  other  girls.  You  know  you  are.  dear  child, 
you  are  so  dignified,  so  calm,  so  self-restrained. 
And  then  your  money.  Only  think  of  the  good 
you  can  do  in  your  husband's  parish !  " 

"  Dr.  Gallatin  mentioned  in  his  argument  all 
the  reasons  you  have  named  except  the  money," 
said  Anne,  smiling  faintly.  "  Perhaps  he  forgot 
that." 

"Oh,  no,  my  dear,  he  asked  me  quite  particu 
larly  as  to  the  terms  of  the  will.  But  there,  I 
ought  not  to  have  said  that,  I  am  sure.  I  am 
always  saying  the  wrong  thing."  Mrs.  Nugent 
turned  quite  pale  with  apprehension  as  she 
glanced  appealingly  at  the  girl's  gloomy  face. 

"  It  does  n't  matter  in  the  least,  Aunt  Nugent ; 
I  have  n't  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  marrying 
Dr.  Gallatin." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  29 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  why  ?  "  besought  Mrs.  Nugent, 
tearfully.  "  Don't  be  hasty,  I  beg  of  you,  my 
love ;  you  might  never  have  another  such  oppor 
tunity  ;  you  are  so  different  from  — 

Anne  Smith  laughed  aloud  in  a  mirthless 
fashion.  "  I  ought  to  know  by  this  time  that  I 
am  different,"  she  said  bitterly.  "  But  I  will  not 
on  that  account  marry  a  man  old  enough  to  be 
my  father,  who  does  not  even  pretend  to  love 
me." 


CHAPTER   III 

IMMEDIATELY  succeeding  events  appeared  to 
Mrs.  Nugent  in  the  light  of  a  just  sequence. 

"  I  am  not  surprised  to  find  that  you  wish  to 
go  away  for  a  while,  my  dear,"  she  said  plain 
tively  to  her  niece.  "  Indeed,  I  should  think  you 
could  hardly  endure  it  to  see  that  poor,  dear 
man,  so  pale  and  disappointed  in  his  surplice, 
yet  bearing  up  so  nobly.  You  have  dealt  him  a 
blow  in  his  tenderest  sensibilities,  Anne,  and  one 
that  he  will  never  recover  from.  If  you  could 
find  it  in  your  heart  to  reconsider  the  matter 
even  now,  my  love,  I  am  quite  sure  I  could  — 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  it,  aunt,"  said  Anne, 
decidedly.  "  I  cannot  say  just  how  long  I  shall 
be  away,"  she  added,  with  a  curious  embarrass 
ment  of  manner  which  entirely  escaped  Mrs. 
Nugent's  short-sighted  eyes.  "  I  hope  you  will 
be  quite  comfortable  while  I  am  gone." 

"  And  you  are  looking  far  handsomer  than  I 
30 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  31 

ever  saw  you,  my  dear,"  that  lady  went  on  with 
a  fretful  sigh.  "  I  wish  you  would  reflect  on 
the  fact  that  you  are  quite  twenty-seven." 

Anne  laughed  softly.  "  Please  remember  what 
I  told  you  about  Lizzie  and  the  other  maids," 
she  said.  "  I  have  thought  far  too  little  about 
them  and  their  comfort  of  late." 

"What  nonsense,  child!  Our  maids  are  so 
spoiled  that  they  never  stay  in  a  place  after 
leaving  us,  and  you  know  that  quite  well.  What 
with  having  their  own  sitting-room  and  dining- 
room,  and  heat  in  their  bedrooms  and  porcelain 
tubs  for  bathing,  and  two  afternoons  a  week,  I 
sometimes  wonder  what  you  will  think  of  next." 

Anne  smiled.  "  I  think  I  shall  find  some 
other  things  to  do  for  them  —  soon,"  she  said. 
"I  intend  to.  And,  aunt,"-  — the  girl  hesitated, 
while  a  slight  flush  overspread  her  face  and 
neck,  —  "I  don't  know  that  I  have  spoken  to 
you  of  a  • —  a  girl  named  Annie  Smith.  She 
is  a  perfectly  honest,  respectable  person,  though 
not  an  experienced  cook,  and  I  have  promised 
to  help  her.  She  wishes  to  go  out  to  service, 
and  —  " 


32  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"The  very  thing,"  observed  Mrs.  Nugent, 
placidly ;  "  the  under  kitchen-maid  is  leaving  at 
the  end  of  her  month.  The  girl  is  bent  on 
marrying  the  butcher's  boy.  I  sent  for  her  to 
come  to  my  room,  and  told  her  what  I  thought 
of  her  folly.  I  presume  she  will  be  looking  for 
plain  washing  before  long,  with  half  a  dozen 
babies  clinging  to  her  skirts.  Persons  in  that 
rank  of  life  should  not  be  allowed  to  marry." 

"  Did  you  tell  poor  Mary  all  that,  Aunt 
Nugent  ? " 

"  Certainly  I  did.  And  it  is  quite  true,  too. 
The  silly  little  thing  cried,  and  said  she  loved 
Henry.  —  It  seems  the  butcher's  boy  is  named 
Henry.  I  reproved  her  severely,  and  she  grew 
quite  impertinent.  Such  persons  cannot  under 
stand  the  delicate  sentiment  of  love,  my  dear. 
However,  I  have  washed  my  hands  of  the  girl. 
She  is  to  leave,  as  I  said,  at  the  end  of  the 
month ;  so  you  may  have  your  protege"  call  at 
the  housekeeper's  room." 

"  I  am  sure  Annie  Smith  could  not  fill  Mary's 
place,"  said  Miss  Smith,  reflectively.  "  And  I 
don't  wish  her  to  work  where  so  many  servants 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  33 

are  kept.  What  you  will  please  to  do,  aunt,  is 
simply  to  forward  to  any  person  who  may 
inquire  about  the  girl  during  my  absence  one 
of  the  letters  of  recommendation  which  you  will 
find  in  my  desk.  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to 
remember  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  since  you  ask  it.  If 
the  girl  calls  here,  I  will  see  her  myself  ;  I  think 
she  might  do  very  well  under  Bridget  if,  as 
you  say,  she  is  respectable  and  honest." 

Miss  Smith  did  not  pursue  the  conversation 
further,  and  half  an  hour  later  she  was  driving 
to  the  railway  station.  The  subsequent  move 
ments  of  this  young  woman  were  so  singular 
that  one  must  look  for  an  explanation  of  them 
in  a  certain  unpretentious  volume  labelled  "  Note 
book,"  which  formed  a  part  of  her  modest  lug 
gage.  The  note-book  in  question  bore  on  its 
front  page,  in  Anne  Smith's  small,  distinct  hand 
writing,  the  words  "  Notes  on  Ontology."  These 
"notes"  begin  abruptly  as  follows:  — 

I  find  that  the  women  in  the  Ontological  Club 
talk  a  vast  deal  about  planes.  As  nearly  as  I 
can  find  out,  planes  are  very  much  like  the 
D 


34  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

shelves  in  a  china-closet ;  and  one  cannot  very 
well  peek  over  the  edge  of  one  shelf  to  look  at 
the  objects  on  the  shelves  above  or  below.  Even 
if  one  succeeds  in  peeking,  there  is  n't  much  use 
in  doing  it,  because  one  cannot  possibly  under 
stand  what  is  happening  on  any  shelf  but  one's 
own.  At  least,  that  is  what  one  woman  said. 
Some  of  the  others  seem  to  be  able  to  stand  off 
and  see  all  the  shelves  at  once.  They  are  what 
they  call  "  unfolded,"  and  very  likely  will  never 
have  to  come  back  to  the  china-closet  again 
—  even  to  the  top  shelf  of  it.  It  gives  one  an 
odd  feeling  to  think  one  may  have  been  an 
East  Indian  or  a  Chinaman  a  few  years  back. 
I  wonder  what  I  was.  And  I  wonder  still  more 
what  I  shall  have  to  be  next  time. 

I  have  been  trying  to  realize  that  I  have  a 
solar  plexus.  If  one  can  "  concentrate,"  and  be 
come  really  conscious  of  having  a  solar  plexus, 
one  will  not  care  a  rap  what  happens  next,  or 
rather  one  can  make  things  happen  just  as  one 
likes.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  would  be  like 
owning  an  Aladdin's  lamp.  My  opinion  is 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  35 

probably  due  to  the  fact  that  I  am  not  at  all 
"  unfolded."  We  all  sat  silent  for  half  an  hour 
in  the  Club  this  afternoon,  with  a  fat,  calm 
Hindu  man,  who  looked  something  like  an  idol, 
on  the  platform.  We  were  trying  to  "  concen 
trate  "  the  way  he  did.  After  a  while  I  found 
myself  staring  hard  at  the  back  hair  of  the 
woman  directly  in  front  of  me.  I  had  some 
how  discovered  that  she  wears  two  switches. 
I  wonder  what  father  would  think  of  all  this. 

I  wish  I  knew  whether  any  of  these  astonishing 
things  we  are  hearing  at  the  Club  are  true  or 
not.  They  are  certainly  interesting  to  a  degree, 
but  for  my  part  I  don't  see  how  any  of  it  is 
going  to  help  me  very  much,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  world  at  large.  In  fact,  the  most  of  it  is 
being  unearthed  from  antiquity  for  our  latter- 
day  benefit  —  or  undoing.  Really,  I  don't  know 
which.  The  woman  who  lectured  on  reincar 
nation  to-day  said  she  knew  for  a  fact  that 
St.  Paul  and  Napoleon  Bonaparte  were  one  and 
the  same  persons.  It  struck  me  as  being  a  very 
singular  idea.  There  is  a  tall,  stout  woman  in 


36  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

the  Club  named  Mrs.  Van  Deiiser,  who  is  always 
talking  fussily  about  "  our  aeonian  trends,"  and 
"  our  aetherial  environments,"  and  "  our  spiritual 
individualities."  She  is  supposed  to  be  very 
much  "  unfolded "  ;  but  I  heard  the  other  day 
that  she  beat  down  her  sewing-woman  shame 
fully  on  the  price  of  some  elaborate  embroidered 
work.  The  woman  told  me  about  it  herself.  I 
saw  that  she  had  been  crying  when  she  brought 
me  some  work,  and  I  asked  her  to  tell  me  why, 
with  the  above  result.  Quite  evidently  Mrs.  Van 
Deuser  has  not  yet  unfolded  as  to  her  purse. 

We  have  had  a  sociological  session  at  the  Club. 
I  confess  that  I  have  n't  attended  the  meetings 
for  a  long  while.  They  have  been  having  a 
course  of  lessons  on  Astrology  by  a  greasy- 
looking  old  man  who  lectures  in  a  red  cloak 
trimmed  with  ermine  and  covered  with  em 
broidered  constellations,  dragons,  and  things. 
He  says  he  is  a  reincarnation  of  one  of  the 
three  wise  men.  Mrs.  Van  Deuser  called  yester 
day  to  tell  me  of  the  sociological  meeting.  She 
says  I  have  missed  a  precious  opportunity  be- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  37 

cause  I  did  not  hear  Professor  Zewilowyk  —  if 
that  is  the  way  to  spell  his  name.  I  dare  say  I 
have  missed  a  number  of  them.  I  am  really 
interested  in  "  the  servant  problem,"  so  I  prom 
ised  to  be  present.  The  discussion  has  proved 
a  great  disappointment,  but  I  have  an  idea  never 
theless.  Why  am  not  I  an  American  laboring 
woman  ? 

The  Rev.  Frederick  Gallatin  has  asked  me  to 
marry  him.  Aunt  Nugent  begs  me  with  tears 
to  accept  him.  The  dear  woman  has  discovered 
the  appalling  fact  that  I  am  rapidly  drifting  into 
old-maidenhood.  She  urges  me  to  realize  that  I 
am  quite  twenty-seven.  In  view  of  this  unde 
niable  fact  I  have  decided  to  fall  back  on  the 
idea  that  my  soul  mate  is  not  incarnate  in  this 
particular  lifetime  of  mine.  One  does  not  mind 
being  an  old  maid  under  such  circumstances ;  in 
fact,  it  is  distinctly  interesting  and  romantic. 

I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  see  just  what  sort 
of  a  person  I  am  apart  from  my  present  environ 
ment,  which  does  n't  seem  to  fit. 


38  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  have  a  real  desire  to  work  with  my  hands, 
to  be  tired,  —  yes,  even  to  be  dirty,  for  the  pleas 
ure  of  making  all  clean  again.  So  I  am  going 
to  work  in  somebody's  kitchen.  I  am  not  going 
to  do  this  because  I  am  especially  interested  in 
"  the  masses."  Really  I  am  not  interested  in 
them  at  all.  I  am  interested  in  myself.  If  I 
can  find  out  what  I  am  good  for,  it  will  be  time 
then  to  take  up  other  people's  problems.  I  have 
been  writing  my  own  references,  and  I  hope  I 
have  told  the  truth  about  myself.  How  can  one 
answer  for  the  honesty  of  a  person  who  has 
never  had  the  slightest  temptation  to  be  other 
wise  ?  If  Anne  Smith  was  hungry  —  really  hun 
gry  —  and  a  bun  belonging  to  somebody  else 
lay  conveniently  unguarded,  would  she  eat  it  ?  I 
confess  that  I  do  not  know. 

I  shall  be  glad  to  get  away  from  Aunt  Nugent. 
She  sighs  windily  every  time  she  looks  at  me ; 
she  is  thinking  —  I  know  this  telepathically  — 
that  I  have  thrown  away  my  one  golden  chance 
of  matrimony.  She  would  have  so  liked  to  refer 
to  "  my  niece,  Mrs.  Dr.  Gallatin,  a  very  philan 
thropic  and  influential  woman,  my  dear." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  39 

My  fingers  are  so  cold  I  can  hardly  write, 
though  I  am  wrapped  in  a  smelly  patchwork 
quilt  which  I  have  just  taken  from  the  unpleas 
ant-looking  bed  in  which  I  am  to  sleep  to-night. 
Nevertheless  I  am  cheerful,  even  jubilant.  I 
have  got  a  place  !  It  was  all  absurdly  easy.  I 
said  good-by  to  Winston  at  the  door  of  the 
station.  The  poor  old  fellow  looked  really  sorry. 
"  It  '11  be  lonesome  without  you,  miss,"  he  said ; 
then  apologized  for  mentioning  his  feelings. 
Well-trained  servants  are  not  supposed  to  have 
discernible  emotions  of  any  sort.  After  dismiss 
ing  the  carriage,  I  walked  through  to  the  baggage- 
room,  and  arranged  to  store  one  of  my  trunks 
"till  called  for."  The  other  I  had  sent  to  this 
boarding-house,  a  respectable  place,  where  one 
may  dine,  sleep,  and  breakfast  for  fifty  cents. 

I  left  home  in  a  cheap,  ready-made  suit,  which 
I  bought  last  week  at  a  bargain  sale  for  $9.38.  I 
don't  think  Aunt  Nugent  noticed  it ;  but  Lizzie 
did,  and  looked  scandalized. 

"  Shan't  I  bring  you  your  brown  broadcloth, 
Miss  Anne,  'stead  of  that  ? "  she  said,  with  an 
emphasis  which  made  me  smile. 


4O  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  Why  no,  Lizzie,"  I  said ;  "  I  think  this  dress 
quite  nice  enough.  I  like  it  very  much,  don't 
you  ? " 

"  Perhaps  you  did  n't  notice  that  the  skirt  is 
lined  with  percaline,  miss,"  said  Lizzie,  sternly ; 
"  and  I  am  sure  the  jacket  does  n't  fit  no  more  'n 
anythink." 

"  One  can't  expect  everything  in  a  ready-made 
suit,"  I  said  coolly,  as  I  put  it  on.  "  It  was  a 
bargain  besides ;  it  cost  $9.38." 

I  saw  a  light  come  into  her  eyes.     "  Where  — 
she  began.     Then  bit  the  words  off  short  with  a 
blush.     Lizzie   blushes   beautifully.     She  has  the 
real    English   complexion    of   milk  and   roses. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  she  added 
stiffly.  "  I  hope  as  how  I  knows  my  place." 

If  Lizzie  and  I  were  condemned  to  a  prolonged 
sojourn  on  a  desert  island,  I  have  no  doubt  we 
should  shortly  find  many  things  in  common. 
As  it  is,  the  brotherhood  of  man  is  something 
of  a  myth  as  far  as  mistress  and  maid  are  con 
cerned. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  hope  I  shall  know  my  place  as 
well,"  I  answered  honestly.  Lizzie  looked 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  41 

mystified  and  a  trifle  uneasy.  She  undoubtedly 
suspected  me  of  sarcasm. 

The  first  move  I  made,  after  getting  rid  of 
Anne  Smith,  was  to  secure  a  room  for  the  night. 
At  first  I  thought  I  could  not  do  this,  as  the 
landlady  seemed  rather  suspicious  of  my  re 
sources. 

She  stared  hard  at  me,  and  harder  still  at  my 
trunk,  a  small  shabby  one,  which  the  cabman  had 
dumped  beside  me  on  the  steps  after  bidding  me 
to  "look  lively"  for  my  fare.  "Ain't  you  any 
friends  in  the  city  ?  "  she  demanded,  fixing  her 
ferret  eyes  on  my  hat,  a  plain  Alpine,  chastely 
swathed  in  a  brown  veil,  and  from  thence  de 
scending  by  slow  degrees  to  the  toe  of  my  well- 
worn  boot.  "  I  don't  never  like  to  take  in 
one-night  roomers  —  leastways  ladies." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  I  asked  anxiously.  "  I  'm  afraid 
it  is  too  late  to  look  for  a  place  to-night." 

Her  sour  face  cleared  somewhat.  "  What  kind 
of  a  place  was  you  lookin'  for  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  I  'm  a  bit  uncertain,"  I  began  in  my  usual 
tone,  then,  catching  her  hard  black  eye  as  it  strove 
to  penetrate  between  the  buttons  of  my  ill-fitting 


42  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

jacket  to  the  secrets  of  my  guilty  heart,  I  added 
with  a  bold  toss  of  the  head :  "  Ain't  you  awful 
curious,  ma'am ;  but  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  that 
I  am  a-goin'  out  to  service,  if  I  gets  a  place  that 
suits.  If  you  don't  want  to  keep  me  over  night, 
though,  I  guess  I  can  find  a  place  around  the 
corner." 

"  You  c'n  come  in,"  said  the  woman,  opening 
the  door.  Later  she  informed  me  that  she  sus 
pected  me  of  being  "  a  lady  in  trouble."  She 
added  that  she  had  had  a  heap  of  fuss  with  'em, 
first  and  last,  and  that  a  body  could  n't  be  too 
careful. 

I  agreed  with  her  unqualifiedly,  and  paid  her  on 
the  spot  for  a  night's  lodging.  After  this  trans 
action  my  landlady  grew  quite  communicative, 
and  accommodating  to  the  point  of  giving  me  the 
address  of  an  intelligence  office  only  three  blocks 
away. 

"  You  c'n  say  'at  you  're  stoppin'  at  Mis'  Buck- 
leses,"  she  said  kindly.  "The  woman  'at  keeps 
the  office  is  a  p'tic'lar  frien'  o'  mine." 

The  office  in  question  was  a  dingy  room  three 
flights  of  dirty  stairs  from  the  street,  up  which  I 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  43 

toiled  in  the  wake  of  a  couple  of  giggling  colored 
girls.  My  heart  sank  within  me  as  I  entered,  still 
following  the  lead  of  the  negresses,  one  of  whom 
advanced  to  the  desk  in  the  corner  with  the 
peculiar  swaying,  sidelong  gait  of  her  race. 
"  Please,  Mis'  Lehn,  Julia  an'  me  could  n't  git 
'long  nohow  to  that  place  you  sent  us  las'  week. 
We  's  lef." 

The  stout,  showily  dressed  woman  who  sat 
behind  the  desk  turned  over  a  leaf  of  the  book 
that  lay  before  her.  "  You  're  a  couple  of  worth 
less  baggages,"  she  said,  without  show  of  emotion. 

"  No  'm  we  ain't,  Mis'  Lehn,"  retorted  the  girl, 
"  we  's  awful  smart  and  likely,  we  is,  but  we  ain't 
a-goin'  to  be  put  upon  like  we  was  no  'count 
niggahs.  You  give  us  'nother  place,  an'  you  '11 
see.  We  don'  want  no  mo'  'an  fo'  in  fambly." 

The  woman's  cold  eyes  had  already  seized  upon 
me,  as  I  lurked  in  the  background,  uneasily  debat 
ing  the  question  as  to  whether  I  would  better  not, 
after  all,  reconsider  my  sociological  aspirations. 

"  You  c'n  pay  your  money,  and  call  to-morrow 
at  ten,"  she  said  shortly,  still  addressing  herself 
to  the  first  comers,  while  her  eyes  and  a  slight 


44  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

motion  of  her  elaborately  frizzled  head  com 
manded  me  to  approach. 

"  But  dey  am'  done  pay  us  yit,  Mis'  Lehn," 
whined  the  colored  girl.  "  Dey 's  awful  mean 
folks  to  wuk  fo',  dey  suahly  is.  You  kin  cha'ge 
it  up  to  us.  We  '11  pay  fust  thing  next  week." 

"You're  lyin',"  said  the  woman.  "Go  'long. 
Was  you  lookin'  for  help,  ma'am  ? "  she  added  in 
a  high-pitched,  conciliatory  tone,  as  she  addressed 
me. 

"  No,"  I  almost  whispered.  "I  —  I  want  a 
place."  I  was  painfully  conscious  of  three  pairs 
of  staring  eyes  set  hard  on  my  crimsoning  face. 
One  of  the  negresses  giggled.  "  My  lawdy ! 
An'  I  was  mos'  thinkin'  she  was  a  lady  fo' 
suah  ! "  she  whispered  loudly. 

I  bethought  myself  in  time  to  bestow  a  glance 
of  scorn  on  the  two.  "  I  ain't  very  experienced," 
I  added  loftily.  "  I  've  been  livin'  to  home,  an' 
ain't  had  to  work  till  now.  I  'm  stoppin'  to  Mis' 
Buckleses.  She  told  me  to  mention  her  name, 
ma'am." 

"  Have  you  any  reference  ? "  demanded  the 
cold,  official  voice  of  the  frizzled  one. 


HAVK    YOU    ANY    REFERENCE  ?  ' 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  45 

I  produced  the  reference  of  Miss  Anne  Smith 
of  Beacon  Street.  The  woman  read  it  slowly, 
scanning  the  quality  of  the  paper  and  envelope. 
"  Inexperienced,  but  clean  an'  honest,"  she  re 
peated  thoughtfully.  "Well,  you  look  clean 
enough,  an'  I  presume  you  're  as  honest  as  most. 
Your  name  an'  address,  an'  two  dollars,  please." 

"I  '11  have  to  get  a  place  right  away,"  I  said, 
as  I  laid  the  bills  on  the  desk.  I  had  not  ex 
pected  to  pay  this  fee,  and  I  was  actually  fright 
ened  as  I  looked  into  my  purse. 

"Well,  I  c'd  sen'  you  out  to-morrow  mornin', 
if  you  '11  take  a  general  housework  place  —  in  the 
country.  There 's  a  woman  in  Bentley  Manor 
that 's  changed  six  times  a'ready  since  Septem 
ber.  She  's  out  of  a  girl  again,  an'  wants  one  in 
a  hurry.  She  pays  twelve  a  month,  an'  helps 
some  with  the  cookin'." 

"  I  '11  go,"  I  said. 


CHAPTER   IV 

MRS.  ALGERNON  DE  PUYSTER-JONES  was  in  pro 
cess  of  entertaining  a  visitor  in  the  parlor  of  her 
house  in  Bentley  Manor.  The  visitor  —  the 
clergyman's  wife  making  parochial  calls  —  had 
stood  patiently  for  five  long  minutes  on  the  door 
step  of  the  De  Puyster-Jones  residence,  distant 
sounds  of  hurriedly  banged  doors  and  scuttling 
footsteps  assuring  her  experienced  ear  that  the 
bell  had  sounded  within  and  preparations  to  re 
ceive  her  were  on  foot. 

"  I  Ve  a  good  mind  to  leave  my  card  and  go 
right  along,"  the  good  lady  told  herself  at  last. 
"  I  want  to  make  six  more  calls  before  supper- 
time."  Just  then  the  door  flew  open  and  Mrs. 
Jones  herself  (she  was  Mrs.  de  Puyster-Jones 
on  her  visiting  cards  only),  flushed  and  some 
what  dishevelled  as  to  her  general  appearance, 
invited  the  visitor  to  enter. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  '11  think  of 
46 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  47 

me,  Mrs.  Bostwick,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jones,  as 
the  two  seated  themselves  in  the  parlor.  "  But 
I  've  been  having  the  most  dreadful  time  with 
servants  lately.  I  tell  Algy  he  '11  have  to  break 
up  and  go  to  boarding,  if  I  can't  get  somebody 
before  long."  Mrs.  Jones  was  a  large,  somewhat 
limp  young  woman,  with  an  uncertain  complex 
ion,  and  a  quantity  of  reddish  hair  which  was 
tumbled  untidily  behind  her  ears. 

The  visitor  murmured  sympathy  and  acquies 
cence,  her  shrewd  eyes  taking  in  the  dusty  and 
forlorn  condition  of  the  densely  furnished  little 
room. 

"  I  've  had  six  since  September,"  pursued  Mrs. 
Jones,  with  rising  earnestness,  "  and  each  was 
more  dreadful  than  the  last.  For  a  week  I 
have  n't  had  anybody.  I  declare,  I  've  been  al 
most  crazy;  what  with  getting  Mr.  Jones  off  to 
the  city  on  the  half-past  seven  car,  and  the  chil 
dren  to  school  at  a  quarter  to  nine,  I  hardly 
know  what  I  'm  about.  I  'm  awfully  nervous, 
Mrs.  Bostwick.  I  don't  know  as  I  've  told  you 
that  I  Ve  been  on  the  verge  of  nervous  prostra 
tion  twice  in  the  last  year.  Yes,  indeed,  I  have ; 


48  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  'm  taking  medicine  all  the  time  now.  And  if 
you  have  nerves,  you  know  what  tJiat  means. 
Some  people  seem  born  without  nerves,  don't 
they  ?  There 's  Mrs.  Stone  across  the  street. 
That  woman  is  a  perfect  marvel  to  me.  She 
does  all  her  own  work  and  every  bit  of  her  plain 
sewing  besides.  That  woman  has  n't  a  nerve  in 
her  body,  not  one.  But  I  tell  Algy  I  'm  not 
made  that  way.  If  you  could  see  my  kitchen, 
Mrs.  Bostwick.  It 's  just  the  way  that  dreadful 
Mary  left  it.  The  most  impudent  creature !  I 
have  n't  had  the  strength  to  do  more  than  to 
get  the  meals  and  wash  the  dishes  since  she 
went.  I  've  been  lying  down  all  the  afternoon 
trying  to  get  up  strength  to  get  Mr.  Jones's 
dinner." 

Mrs.  Bostwick  here  stemmed  the  tide  of  infor 
mation  to  civilly  regret  the  interrupted  nap. 

"  No,  indeed,  don't  say  a  word.  I  'm  awfully 
glad  you  called.  I  was  just  getting  dressed  when 
you  rang.  I  simply  have  to  lie  down,  you  know. 
I  am  so  nervously  organized.  But  I  'm  expecting 
a  girl  this  afternoon.  I  don't  suppose  she  '11  be 
any  good,  but  then  I  've  simply  got  to  have  some- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  49 

body.  I  told  Algy  to  tell  those  tiresome  intelli 
gence  office  people  that  they  must  send  me  a 
girl  or  take  my  name  off  their  books.  You  have 
to  be  firm  with  such  people.  They  're  always 
ready  to  impose  on  you.  Don't  you  find  them  so  ? 
I  declare,  I  believe  that  creature  is  coming  here. 
Do  look,  Mrs.  Bostwick.  You  don't  suppose  that 
can  be  my  girl,  do  you  ?  Why,  she  is  really 
quite  a  nice-looking  person.  Well,  I  'm  sure  I 
deserve  a  treasure  if  anybody  ever  did.  Yes, 
she  is  coming  around  back,  and  she  has  a 
bundle.  Well,  I  am  relieved !  It  did  seem  as 
though  it  would  kill  me  to  get  dinner.  I  always 
did  hate  cooking,  or  housework  of  any  kind. 
Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Mrs.  Bostwick.  I  '11  just  let 
her  in,  if  you  '11  excuse  me,  and  — 

But  Mrs.  Bostwick  with  a  frugally  calculating 
eye  for  the  fleeting  minutes  had  risen  with  a 
relieved  sigh.  The  subsequent  monologue  carried 
quite  to  the  verge  of  the  front  doorsteps,  in  the 
course  of  which  Mrs.  de  Puyster-Jones  treated  her 
visitor  to  a  detailed  description  of  Algy's  late  at 
tack  of  lumbago,  and  Ethel's  sudden  seizure  with 
the  grippe,  touching  lightly  on  the  peccadilloes 


50  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

of  the  grocer,  and  closing  with  a  spirited  disserta 
tion  on  the  shamefully  short  weight  of  the  last 
ton  of  coal  delivered  at  the  De  Puyster-Jones 
residence,  which  Mr.  Jones  had  taken  the  pains  to 
weigh  by  scuttlef uls  —  indeed,  he  had,  consumed 
so  much  time  that  Annie  Smith,  standing  before 
the  back  door,  had  ample  time  for  observation  and 
reflection. 

That  young  person,  neatly  attired  in  her  bargain 
suit,  already  somewhat  drabbled  about  the  skirt, 
actually  laughed  aloud  as  she  surveyed  the  lat 
ticed  enclosure  in  which  she  stood.  It  is  likely 
that  few  other  persons  in  the  town  of  Bentley 
Manor  would  have  seen  anything  humorous  in  the 
collection  of  objects  at  which  she  gazed.  The  ash 
barrel,  its  legitimate  contents  topped  with  a  mis 
cellaneous  collection  of  tin  cans  and  waste  paper, 
guarded  a  platoon  of  rusty  and  disabled  kitchen 
utensils  brimming  over  with  malodorous  refuse. 
In  the  background  lurked  a  dark-complexioned 
mop,  three  spavined  brooms,  and  a  tin  pail  oozing 
kerosene  oil.  A  fine  wet  snow  was  sifting  itself 
impartially  over  the  scene. 

Repeated  knockings  of   a  respectful  degree  of 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  51 

loudness  failing  to  elicit  any  response  from  the 
mud-spattered  door,  Miss  Smith  resorted  to  the 
handle  of  her  umbrella.  The  door  flew  wide  at 
this,  and  the  girl  was  confronted  by  her  new 
mistress. 

"Are  you  the  girl  from  Lehn's?"  inquired  the 
lady,  without  preamble. 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  You  can  come  right  in  the  kitchen.  I  guess 
I  'd  better  have  a  little  talk  with  you  before  you 
go  up-stairs  to  change  your  dress." 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  I  'm  very  particular  about  my  work,"  observed 
Mrs.  Jones,  with  rising  severity  of  manner. 
"  You  may  not  think  so  to  look  at  this  kitchen," 
—  the  girl's  bright  eyes  were  roving  over  the 
place  with  evident  dismay,  — "  but  I  've  had  a 
dreadful  creature  here  —  an  Irish  girl.  I  do  hope 
you  're  German." 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  'm  an  American." 

"  Dear,  dear !  I  was  hoping  you  might  be 
German,  or  a  Swede  ;  Americans  do  have  such 
ideas  !  Are  you  a  good  cook  ?  " 

The  girl  hesitated.     "  I  can  make  good  coffee," 


52  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

she  said  slowly.  "  Yes,  and  a  Welsh  rabbit,  and 
I  suppose  I  could  cook  vegetables  if  you  have  a 
receipt-book.  I  'm  not  experienced.  I  told  Mrs. 
Lehn  so.  Didn  't  she  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Not  experienced  !  I  should  say  so !  What  in 
the  world  did  that  woman  send  you  here  for  ?  I 
don't  believe  you  '11  do  for  us  at  all.  But  wait,  — 
Anne  had  risen  with  pleased  alacrity,  —  "I  shall 
keep  you  for  a  week,  anyway.  Perhaps  (vaguely) 
I  can  teach  you.  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"Annie  Smith,  ma'am." 

"  And  what  wages  do  you  expect  ? " 

"  Mrs.  Lehn  said  you  paid  twelve  dollars  a 
month;  she  said  you  would  help  with  the 
cooking." 

"  Well,  of  course  I  expect  to  see  to  things  in  the 

kitchen ;  but  for  twelve  dollars  a  month  and  board, 

—  remember  you  are  far  better  off  than  a  factory 

girl  in  that  respect,  —  I   shall  expect  you  to  get 

the  meals,  of  course." 

"What  else  do  you  expect  me  to  do,  ma'am  ?  " 

The  girl's  tone  was  respectfully  inquiring,  but 
Mrs.  de  Puyster-Jones's  limp  figure  straightened 
itself  with  a  little  jerk.  "  The  washing  and  iron- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  53 

ing,  sweeping  and  cleaning,  of  course.  And  I  did 
have  one  girl  —  she  was  a  treasure  in  some 
respects  —  who  always  made  my  bed  and  the 
children's  and  tidied  the  rooms.  She  was  a 
German,  not  very  long  over.  She  used  to  get  up 
at  four  o'clock  every  morning  regularly  and  put 
the  place  in  perfect  order  before  any  of  us  were 
out  of  bed." 

"  Why  did  n't  she  stay  with  you,  ma'am  ? " 
Mrs.  de  Puyster-Jones  looked  offended.  "  I 
don't  think  that  is  a  proper  question  for  you 
to  ask.  I  am  very  particular  about  impertinence, 
Annie.  Tliat  you  must  understand  from  the  very 
start  with  me.  I  never  permit  it  in  my  house, 
never  !  Gretchen  would  have  been  simply  perfect 
if  she  had  not  been  so  impertinent,  and  if  she 
had  been  fond  of  children.  Are  you  fond  of 
children  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  any  children,  ma'am." 
"  Don't  know  any  children !  What  an  idea  ! 
You  must  know  some.  Well,  I  have  two  chil 
dren,  and  I  require  my  servant  to  be  polite  and 
respectful  to  them.  Of  course,  children  will  be 
children,  but  if  one  is  fond  of  them,  they  don't 


54  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

mind  that.  You  look  good-natured,  I  'm  sure, 
and  —  yes  —  clean.  I  hope  you  have  some  good 
work  dresses ;  the  last  girl  I  had  looked  like  a 
fright  when  she  came  in  to  wait  on  table. 
Mr.  Jones  is  very  particular  about  the  way  a 
girl  looks.  He  really  can't  eat  unless  every 
thing  is  just  so.  Have  you  ever  worn  a  cap  ? " 

"I've  never  worked  out,  ma'am." 

"  You  have  n't  ?  Dear,  dear  !  Well,  perhaps  it 
will  be  just  as  well.  You  '11  learn  my  ways  all 
the  easier  —  if  I  decide  to  keep  you.  Now,  if 
you  '11  come  upstairs  and  change  your  dress,  I 
think  you  can  wash  up  the  dishes  and  scrub 
the  kitchen  —  be  sure  you  don't  forget  the 
tables  —  before  it  is  time  to  get  dinner.  We 
have  dinner  at  six,  and  Mr.  Jones  wants  it  on 
time.  He  is  very  particular  about  that.  Oh,  I 
forgot  to  ask  how  old  you  are." 

"  I  'm  twenty-seven,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  I  declare,  I  should  n't  have  said  so  old. 
Have  you  any  followers  ?  I  'm  very  particular 
about  followers." 

"  Do  you  mean  beaux,  ma'am  ?  No,  I  have  n't 
one." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  55 

"  I  'm  thankful  to  hear  that ;  I  don't  permit 
followers.  You  never  can  tell  but  what  they 
may  be  burglars.  I  always  feel  uneasy  if  there 
is  a  man  in  the  kitchen.  But  at  your  age,  you 
probably  won't  have  any.  Now  we  '11  go  right 
upstairs." 

Mrs.  Jones  led  the  way,  her  progress  being 
somewhat  delayed  by  copious  explanatory  notes. 
"  These  stairs  are  shamefully  dirty ;  in  fact,  the 
house  has  n't  seen  a  broom  for  over  a  week. 
My  health  is  delicate  —  very  delicate.  I  'm  almost 
a  nervous  wreck,  the  doctor  tells  me,  and  of 
course  when  I  'm  out  of  a  girl,  I  don't  pretend 
to  keep  the  work  up.  But  you  can  get  up 
early  to-morrow  morning  and  clean  up  the  worst 
of  it  before  breakfast,  can't  you  ?  I  do  hope 
you  are  the  kind  that  wakes  up  without  being 
called.  Besides,  the  alarm-clock  is  broken.  I 
do  believe  I  've  bought  two  dozen  alarm-clocks 
if  I  've  bought  one ;  but  my  girls  have  been  so 
fearfully  careless,  dropping  them  about  as  if 
they  were  five-cent  pans.  And  that  reminds 
me,  I  want  to  tell  you  from  the  very  start  that 
Mr.  Jones  says  I  must  charge  up  breakage. 


56  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

We  Ve  really  had  dishes  enough  broken  since 
we  were  married  to  furnish  three  china  shops. 
So  I  've  made  an  invariable  rule  about  dishes. 
I  want  you  to  be  sure  and  tell  me  the  minute 
you  break  a  dish ;  don't  go  and  throw  it  in  the 
ash  barrel  and  say  nothing,  the  way  my  last 
girl  did." 

The  lady  of  the  house  paused  breathless  at 
the  foot  of  the  second  flight.  "  Stairs  almost 
kill  me,"  she  observed  plaintively.  "  I  never 
come  up  here  if  I  can  help  it,  the  stairs  are 
so  steep  and  my  heart  is  weak;  I  'm  subject  to 
faint  spells.  I  do  hope  I  can  get  rested  up  a 
little  now.  Dear,  dear ! "  she  added  fretfully, 
"how  this  attic  does  look!  The  children  have 
been  playing  here,  and  they  've  pulled  everything 
about.  There,  this  is  your  room." 

The  low-browed  door  at  the  left  yielded  under 
the  lady's  touch,  and  the  two  entered.  The 
one  window  was  tightly  closed.  Anne  opened 
it  without  apology  or  delay.  "  It  does  smell  a 
little  close,"  observed  Mrs.  Jones,  glancing  about 
the  apartment  with  a  shrug  and  a  shiver.  "  But 
there  's  no  heat  up  here.  I  declare,  I  told  Mary 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  57 

she  must  clean  her  room  before  she  left,  and 
she  said  she  had.  But  the  creature  never  told 
the  truth  if  she  could  tell  a  lie.  I  'm  really 
sorry  it  looks  so.  You  can  tidy  it  up  some 
time  to-morrow.  I  should  have  come  up  myself 
if  I  had  n't  been  so  exhausted." 

Anne's  dismayed  eyes  glanced  from  the  weakly 
apologetic  smile  on  the  woman's  face  to  the 
rickety  bedstead,  with  its  lumpy  straw  mattress 
protruding  through  the  soiled  and  ragged  sheet. 
A  tangle  of  frowzy  bedclothes  trailed  on  the 
floor,  which  in  its  turn  exhibited  a  motley  array  of 
crumpled  ribbons,  rusty  hairpins,  burnt  matches, 
empty  bottles,  a  pair  of  shapeless  shoes,  and 
divers  toilet  receptacles  taxed  to  their  utmost 
capacity. 

"  Do  you  —  expect  me  to  —  sleep  in  this 
room  ? "  she  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

Mrs.  de  Puyster-Jones  apparently  did  not  hear 
the  question.  "  Jam  !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  heart 
breaking  whisper.  "  My  best  raspberry  jam ! 
I  thought  it  had  gone  fast.  Did  you  ever ! " 
The  lady  was  pointing  with  a  fine  dramatic 
gesture  to  a  plate  and  knife  daubed  with  some 


58  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

reddish  substance  which  had  been  thoughtlessly 
added  to  the  collection  under  the  bed. 

"  I  do  hope  you  're  honest,"  she  added,  turning 
severely  upon  Anne.  "  Think  of  that  wicked, 
wicked  girl  eating  my  best  raspberry  jam  in 
this  room  !  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  could  do  it,"  murmured 
Anne,  a  wicked  twinkle  in  her  gray  eyes. 

"  No,  nor  I,"  pursued  Mrs.  Jones,  with  a 
sudden  change  of  tone.  "  And  that  reminds 
me,  are  you  a  Catholic  ? " 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  'm  an  Episcopalian." 

"  An  Episcopalian !  Well,  I  declare,  I  don't 
know  as  I  've  ever  had  an  Episcopal  girl.  I  had 
one  Methodist ;  but  my,  what  a  temper  she  had  ! 
Actually,  the  creature  told  me  she  would  pray  for 
me.  And  that  same  day  she  had  the  imperti 
nence  to  slap  Ethel's  ears  in  the  kitchen.  Of 
course  I  sent  her  flying  that  very  night.  At  any 
rate,  I  'm  glad  you  're  not  a  Catholic  —  though  if 
you  insist  on  going  to  church,  early  mass  is  con 
venient.  Mary  used  to  go  and  be  back  before 
we  were  up  on  Sunday  morning.  Do  you  go  to 
church  ? " 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  59 

"  Sometimes,"  said  Anne,  doubtfully. 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  're  not  too  rigid  about  it, 
because  we  have  a  good  deal  of  company  on 
Sunday  —  friends  from  the  city,  you  know.  We 
always  lived  in  the  city  till  a  few  years  ago,  then 
Ethel  was  so  delicate  that  we  moved  out  here. 
Now,  I  guess  I  '11  go  down.  Change  your  dress 
as  quick  as  you  can.  You  've  a  working  dress  in 
your  bundle,  I  suppose.  By  the  way,  did  you  send 
your  trunk  here  ?  " 

"No,  ma'am,  I  thought — " 

"  You  thought  you  'd  see  how  you  liked  me,  I 
suppose.  Actually,  our  girl  told  me  that  right 
out.  The  impertinence  of  it !  Well,  I  '11  tell  you 
one  thing,  if  you  do  what 's  right,  you  '11  get  along 
nicely  with  me.  I  'm  not  a  bit  hard  on  a  girl.  In 
fact,  I  'm  very  considerate  —  too  considerate,  Algy 
—  I  mean  Mr.  Jones  —  says.  Mr.  Jones  believes 
in  being  right  up  and  down  about  everything. 
But  that 's  the  way  with  business  men.  Now 
come  down  as  soon  as  you  possibly  can,  and  I  '11 
tell  you  about  dinner." 

At  eleven  o'clock  that  night,  Anne  Smith 
inscribed  the  following  brief  sentences  in  her  note- 


60  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

book :  "  Why  does  the  American  woman  of  the 
laboring  class  decline  to  enter  domestic  service  ? 
Can  the  answer  to  this  question  be  sought  in  the 
person  of  the  American  mistress  ?  " 

This  done,  she  lay  down  on  the  rickety  bed 
stead  with  an  air  of  grim  determination.  "  The 
sense  of  smell  is  the  most  spiritual  of  all  the 
senses,"  she  quoted  as  she  put  out  the  light.  "  I 
will  now  concentrate  on  the  tip  of  my  nose  and 
produce  the  odor  of  violets." 


CHAPTER  V 

ANNIE  SMITH  was  poking  gingerly  at  the  range 
in  the  kitchen  of  the  De  Puyster-Jones  residence 
at  six-thirty  the  following  morning  when  a  brisk, 
masculine  foot  on  the  floor  apprised  her  of  the 
approach  of  Mr.  de  Puyster-Jones. 

"  Good  morning,"  quoth  Mr.  Jones,  good-na 
turedly.  "  What 's  your  name,  Mary  —  Bridget  — 
Julia  —  blamed  if  I  can  keep  track  of  'em  !  Guess 
you  'd  better  let  me  show  you  about  that  range. 
I  've  got  to  have  my  breakfast  and  be  off  inside 
an  hour.  Mrs.  Jones  says  she  '11  stop  in  bed  this 
morning.  She 's  kind  of  played  out,  I  guess. 
You  take  her  up  something  after  I  'm  gone,  will 
you  ?  There,  I  guess  that  fire  '11  go  now.  Don't 
let  the  grass  grow  under  your  feet,  girl.  Boil  me  a 
couple  of  eggs,  make  some  coffee,  and  set  the  cold 
ham  on  the  table." 

Annie  Smith  had  already,  as  stated,  confessed 
her  inexperience,  but  something  or  other  in  her 
past  stood  her  in  stead  in  the  present  crisis.  The 

61 


62  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

eggs  and  coffee  were  forthcoming  in  a  surpris 
ingly  short  space  of  time ;  so  was  a  plate  of  crisp 
toast.  The  girl  felt  pleasantly  flushed  with  tri 
umph,  and  Mr.  de  Puyster-Jones  stared  in  amaze 
ment  when  he  sat  down  to  the  neatly  laid  table. 
"  By  George  !  "  he  exclaimed  exuberantly  when  he 
ran  up  to  kiss  his  languid  wife,  "  I  guess  you  've 
struck  it  rich  on  your  girl  this  time,  Carrie." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Algy  ? "  inquired  Mrs. 
Jones,  sleepily.  "  Did  the  creature  get  you  a 
decent  breakfast  ?  Dear,  dear  !  I  do  hope  she  will 
see  that  the  children  start  for  school  in  time. 
Tell  her  to  call  them  when  you  go  down,  Algy, 
and  to  see  that  they  get  up.  Oh,  yes,  and  tell  her 
she  must  braid  Miss  Ethel's  hair.  Be  sure  you 
say  Miss  Ethel,  and  tell  her  to  see  that  Master 
Algernon  has  clean  hands  and  that  his  hair  is 
brushed  behind.  I  'm  going  to  sleep  the  whole 
morning  if  I  can." 

"  Pretty  rough  on  the  girl,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Jones, 
with  a  puzzled  expression  on  his  round,  good- 
humored  face,  as  he  swung  himself  aboard  his  car. 
"  Blamed  if  I  could  manage  the  office  that  way." 

The  general  housework  horizon  still  continued 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  63 

to  enlarge  around  the  astonished  Annie  Smith. 
Miss  Ethel  Jones,  a  pallid,  undersized  child  with 
sharp,  inquiring  eyes,  added  several  important 
items  to  her  fund  of  information  during  the  pro 
cess  of  her  toilet.  "  Mamma  most  always  stays 
in  bed  mornings  when  we  have  a  girl,"  she  re 
marked.  "  You  're  to  take  up  her  breakfast  after 
we  go,  and  mind  you  have  the  coffee  hot.  Are 
you  going  to  wash  to-day  ? " 

"Wash  !  "  echoed  Annie  Smith,  "wash  what?" 
"  Why,  wash  clothes,  stupid !  I  have  n't  had  a 
clean  apron  in  two  weeks.  That  horrid  Mary 
did  n't  do  the  washing  last  week.  You  'd  better 
go  at  it,  I  should  think,  or  you  '11  never  get  done ; 
the  hamper  is  just  stuffed.  I  like  the  way  you 
do  my  hair ;  you  have  n't  pulled  once ;  but  it 's 
taken  an  awful  long  time  to  do  it  that  way. 
Now  you  've  got  to  hurry  up  with  our  breakfast ; 
we  want  chocolate  and  toast  and  ham  and  straw 
berry  jam.  I  know  where  the  jam  is ;  but  don't 
you  eat  any  of  it,  mind.  And  you  're  not  to  drink 
the  milk,  either.  We  want  the  milk  for  lunch. 
That  nasty  Bridget  we  had  before  Mary  came 
used  to  drink  most  every  drop  of  it.  I  guess 


64  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

you  're  different.  You  look  so.  I  hope  you  '11 
stay.  And  say,  don't  you  be  scared  of  mamma ; 
she  won't  care  what  you  do,  after  a  week.  She 
always  acts  as  if  she  was  awfully  strict  at  first. 
She  says  she  has  to  break  in  a  new  girl  carefully, 
but  after  that  she  won't  bother,  if  you  get  decent 
things  to  eat.  You  '11  see." 

The  second  breakfast  over,  a  hurried  scramble 
after  books,  mittens,  caps,  and  rubbers  ensued, 
in  the  course  of  which  Miss  Ethel,  who  had 
previously  burned  her  mouth  with  a  hurried  gulp 
of  hot  chocolate,  boxed  her  small  brother's  ears 
with  a  practised  hand.  Whereupon  the  rotund 
facsimile  of  Mr.  de  Puyster-Jones  hurled  him 
self  upon  his  sister  with  screams  of  rage  which 
brought  a  dishevelled  figure  to  the  top  of  the 
stairs.  "  Ethel !  Nonny !  You  naughty  children ! 
what  are  you  doing  ?  If  you  don't  be  quiet,  I 
shall  come  right  downstairs  and  punish  you  both 
severely !  Can't  you  make  them  stop,  Annie  ? 
What  in  the  world  are  you  thinking  of  to  allow 
them  to  make  such  a  noise  ?  It 's  enough  to 
drive  one  frantic.  It  does  seem  to  me  I  can 
never  get  a  moment's  rest." 


The  Singtdar  Miss  Smith  65 

The  children  had  desisted  from  active  warfare, 
and  were  staring  at  each  other  truculently.  "  Get 
your  things  right  on  this  minute,"  commanded 
their  mother.  "  If  you  '11  be  good  children  and 
go  right  to  school,  I  '11  give  you  each  something 
nice  when  you  come  home." 

"What,  candy?"  shouted  the  two  in  unison. 
"  We  want  it  now." 

"  I  won't  go  to  school  unless  you  give  me 
some  candy,  mamma,"  added  Ethel,  positively. 

"  'N'  I  won't,  either,"  echoed  the  boy,  jumping 
up  and  down  with  a  loud,  thumping  sound. 
"Where  is  it,  mamma?  Where's  the  candy?" 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  complained  Mrs.  Jones ;  "  I  can't 
stand  here  all  day  in  the  cold  talking,  I  shall  take 
my  death.  I  do  wish  you  would  be  quiet  and  be 
have  for  once  in  your  lives.  Children  arc  such 
nuisances.  Annie ! " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Here,  take  this  nickel  and  run  over  to  the  gro 
cery  and  get  five  cents'  worth  of  peppermints  and 
divide  them  between  the  children.  Now  do  go  on, 
children.  You  're  shockingly  late.  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  your  teacher  would  scold.  Annie !  " 

F 


66  TJie  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Hurry  back  as  quick  as  you  can  and  make 
me  some  fresh  coffee.  I  'm  positively  faint  with 
exhaustion ;  I  have  n't  had  a  moment  of  rest  yet. 
And  —  Annie!  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  I  guess  you  'd  better  see  if  we  're  out  of  cut 
sugar ;  I  don't  believe  there  's  a  bit  for  my 
coffee.  The  children  eat  it  up  so,  I  can't  keep 
it  in  the  house.  Get  three  pounds  and  charge 
it.  Annie !  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Hurry,  will  you  ?  " 

When  Annie  Smith  toiled  upstairs  half  an 
hour  later  bearing  a  breakfast  tray,  her  mistress 
eyed  her  with  a  frown.  "  Here  you  come  at 
last,"  she  began  fretfully.  Then  her  face  cleared 
a  little.  "Why,  really,  your  tray  looks  quite  in 
viting.  Take  the  things  off  that  stand  there  and 
set  it  by  the  bed.  Now  you  may  pour  me  a  cup 
of  coffee.  My  heart  flutters  so  every  time  the 
children  quarrel  that  it  really  frightens  me. 
And  they  quarrel  continually.  Dear,  dear !  it 
is  such  a  care  to  bring  up  children.  I  often 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  67 

tell  Mr.  Jones  that  he  can't  imagine  in  his  quiet 
office  what  I  have  to  endure  here  at  home. 
Really,  your  coffee  is  very  good,  Annie.  I 
don't  know  when  I  've  tasted  a  decent  cup  of 
coffee  before.  Can  you  make  good  cake  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,  I  never  made  any." 

"  Never  made  any  cake  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  I 
remember  one  girl  I  had  who  declared  she 
could  n't  cook  at  all,  so  I  slaved  around  and  did 
about  everything,  and  afterward  she  left  me  and 
went  to  work  for  Mrs.  Stillman  and  turned  out  an 
elegant  cook.  She  had  the  impertinence  to  tell 
Mrs.  Stillman  that  I  did  n't  pay  for  a  cook,  and 
that  she  was  n't  going  to  do  anything  she  was  n't 
paid  for.  Now,  did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a 
thing  ?  I  always  say  that  when  I  hire  a  girl  I 
hire  them  to  do  whatever  I  want  done.  And  that 
reminds  me,  have  you  scrubbed  the  kitchen  yet? 
You  know  I  wanted  you  to  do  that  yesterday." 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  why  not  ?  It  must  be  ten  o'clock,  is  n't 
it?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  it  is  a  quarter  past." 

"  Then   you    should    certainly    have    had    that 


68  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

kitchen  scrubbed  by  this  time.  Dear,  dear  !  girls 
always  do  waste  their  time  so.  And  the  whole 
house  wants  sweeping.  And  there  is  the  washing, 
too.  When  are  you  going  to  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  can't  do  it  at  all,  ma'am ;  I  never 
washed." 

"  What 's  that  you  're  saying  ?  Not  going  to  do 
the  washing  ?  You  must  remember  what  I  said  to 
you  about  being  impertinent,  Annie.  Of  course 
you  '11  do  it.  That  is  a  part  of  general  house 
work.  We  must  have  some  clean  clothes  this 
week." 

"  Why  not  send  the  soiled  things  to  the  laundry, 
ma'am  ? " 

"  To  the  laundry  ?  What  an  idea  !  Don't  you 
know  they  just  ruin  the  clothes  at  the  laundry  ? 
Besides,  it 's  too  expensive.  We  're  not  rich 
people  —  no,  indeed.  Of  course  Mr.  Jones  does 
an  excellent  business,  and  all  that,  but  what  with 
the  children  and  my  doctor's  bills,  no,  indeed,  I  '11 
not  send  the  clothes  to  the  laundry.  I  suppose 
I  could  get  a  woman.  But  I  can't  afford  to  pay 
you  as  much  as  twelve  dollars  a  month  and  hire 
a  woman  too.  That  would  be  absurd.  And  the 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  69 

work  would  be  ridiculously  easy  without  the  wash 
ing.  You  must  see  that  yourself." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  ma'am,  that  it  is  very  hard." 

"  Well,  really,  you  must  be  inexperienced. 
My  work  hard?  Well,  well!  I  wonder  what  I 
shall  hear  next.  You  ought  to  work  for  Mrs.  Still- 
man  a  while  if  you  think  my  work  is  hard.  But 
really,  Annie,  you  must  stay  your  month  out,  you 
know.  I  '11  get  a  woman  to  do  the  washing  this 
week,  because  it  did  go  over  a  week ;  that  dreadful 
Mary  got  out  of  everything  she  possibly  could. 
You  go  down  now  and  hurry  up  and  put  your 
kitchen  to  rights.  Be  sure  and  have  the  children's 
lunch  ready  at  ten  minutes  past  twelve.  Don't  let 
them  get  into  the  preserve  closet.  Ethel  is  so 
bilious.  Here,  take  this  tray  away.  Tell  every 
body  that  comes  I  am  not  well  and  cannot  be  dis 
turbed.  If  a  stout  man  in  checkered  trousers 
comes  with  a  milliner's  bill,  tell  him  I  'm  out  of 
town  for  two  weeks.  And  —  Annie !  " 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Do  you  suppose  you  can  get  around  to  sweep 
the  parlor  before  lunch  ?  Really,  you  must.  It  is 
a  sight.  And  the  front  hall,  too.  It  won't  take 


7O  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

long.  I  might  have  calls  this  afternoon.  And 
that  reminds  me,  I  declare  I  had  nearly  forgotten 
it.  I  am  invited  to  an  afternoon  tea  to-day,  and 
I  've  simply  got  to  have  my  best  white  petticoat 
washed  and  ironed.  My  silk  one  is  in  rags. 
Look  in  the  hamper  for  it,  will  you,  and  take  it 
down  and  wash  it  right  away." 

"What    about    the    kitchen,    ma'am,    and    the 


sweeping 


"  Why,  the  skirt  won't  take  long.  Now  if  you  'd 
only  done  the  kitchen  yesterday.  You  '11  soon  see 
how  the  work  runs  behind  if  you  don't  do  every 
thing  at  the  right  time.  That 's  what  my  mother 
used  to  say.  And  I  've  always  been  very  particu 
lar  about  it.  Don't  forget  about  that  skirt  now. 
I  '11  try  to  sleep  a  little  before  lunch.  I  'm  really 
tired  to  death.  Don't  make  the  skirt  too  stiff.  I 
ought  to  have  a  new  silk  one  ;  but  Algy —  I  mean 
Mr.  Jones  —  says  I  '11  have  to  wait  till  next 
month." 

Annie  Smith's  firm  young  body  stood  her  in 
good  stead  for  the  next  few  hours.  She  washed 
the  white  skirt  and  hung  it  out  to  dry.  Later  she 
wrestled  with  the  dark-complexioned  mop  and  the 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  71 

darker  problem  presented  by  the  kitchen  floor. 
She  finally  grew  so  absorbed  in  the  solution  that 
time  fled  away  unaware.  A  loud  bang  of  the 
kitchen  door  and  two  pairs  of  muddy  feet  stamp 
ing  across  the  damp  floor  surprised  her  in  a  hope 
less  attempt  to  remove  the  grime  of  past  regimes 
from  the  kitchen  table.  "  Is  our  lunch  ready  ? " 
demanded  Ethel ;  "  we  've  got  to  have  it  this 
minute,  and  I  want  something  good,  too;  I  'm 
hungry." 

"  So  'm  I,"  shouted  Master  Algernon.  "  Come 
on  in  the  dining-room,  Ethel." 

"Wait  a  minute,  children,"  began  Annie,  with  a 

guilty  blush.  "  I  '11  get  your  lunch  just  as  soon  as 
j " 

A  wild  rush  through  the  dining-room  and  a 
sound  of  clamorous  voices  above  apprised  her  of 
the  fact  that  her  shortcomings  had  already  been 
reported.  She  hurriedly  laid  the  table;  then  dis 
covered  to  her  dismay  that  the  kitchen  fire  was 
quite  extinct.  It  appeared  to  her  as  she  poked 
hopelessly  among  the  lumpy  ashes  that  concentra 
tion  was  not  after  all  so  desirable  an  accomplish 
ment  as  she  had  been  led  to  suppose. 


72  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  WJiy,  Annie!"  Mrs.  Jones  announced  her 
presence  in  the  kitchen  with  these  two  words, 
spoken  in  a  tone  which  conveyed  volumes. 

"  I  'm  very  sorry,  ma'am,  but  I  forgot  all  about 
the  children's  lunch,  I  was  so  interested  in  trying 
to  clean  the  floor  and  the  tables,  and  so  the  fire 
went  out,  and  — 

"  I  should  say  so,"  interrupted  Mrs.  de  Puyster- 
Jones,  with  rapidly  gathering  indignation.  "  Your 
mind  cannot  have  been  on  your  work  at  all. 
Have  you  remembered  to  attend  to  the  fur 
nace  ? " 

"  The  furnace,  ma'am !  Do  I  have  to  see  to 
the  fulrnace  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly  you  do.  Don't  you  remember 
that  I  told  you  so  yesterday  ?  Mr.  Jones  gen 
erally  banks  the  fire  at  night ;  but  the  girl  always 
shakes  the  ashes  down  in  the  morning  and  looks 
after  it  during  the  day.  Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me  that  you  have  neglected  that  too  ? " 

"  You  didn  't  tell  me  about  the  furnace,  ma'am." 

"  Don't  prevaricate,  Annie ;  I  always  insist 
upon  perfect  truthfulness  in  a  girl.  But  there 
is  no  time  to  discuss  the  matter  now.  You  may 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  73 

give  the  children  some  of  that  cold  ham  and  some 
bread  and  butter  and  milk.  Do  it  at  once.  I  will 
take  my  lunch  later,  when  you  have  rekindled  the 
fire.  I  shall  want  some  hot  tea  after  all  this  ex 
citement.  Have  you  ironed  my  skirt  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am,  but  I  washed  it.  It 's  out  on 
the  line." 

Mrs.  Jones  sighed  deeply.  "  You  had  better 
see  to  the  furnace  immediately.  I  fear  the  fire 
is  out." 

"  Shall  I  attend  to  the  furnace  before  I  get  the 
children's  lunch,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Dear,  dear !  you  are  certainly  enough  to  try 
the  patience  of  a  saint,  Annie.  Why  do  you 
stand  there  talking  ?  Run  down  at  once  to  the 
furnace  and  throw  on  some  coal,  then  get  the  lunch. 
And  you  must  hurry.  After  I  have  eaten  my  lunch, 
Annie,  I  must  have  a  serious  talk  with  you." 

Notes  on  Ontology  from  Anne  Smith's  Book :  — 
I  have  found  it  neither  pleasant  nor  easy  to 
play  the  part  of  the  brute  atom.  So  far  I  have 
scored  a  decided  failure  in  the  role.  I  have  had 
to  leave  my  first  place  and  am  back  in  town,  work- 


74  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

ing  for  my  board  at  my  friend,  Mrs.  Buckle's. 
Mrs.  Buckle  is  a  kind  soul. 

When  I  left  Mrs.  de  Puyster-Jones  yesterday 
afternoon,  with  exactly  two  dollars  and  four  cents 
in  my  pocket,  —  I  received  no  wages  because  I 
did  not  stop  my  week  out,  —  I  quite  naturally 
returned  to  this  hospitable  roof. 

The  good  woman  met  me  at  the  door.  "  Why, 
if  it  ain't  Annie  Smith  come  back  a'ready  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  with  a  broad  smile  of  welcome. 
"  Did  n't  you  make  out  at  your  place  after  all  ? " 
For  that  warming  smile  I  could  have  fallen  on 
her  neck. 

"  No,"  I  answered  miserably ;  "  I  don't  believe  I 
can  do  general  housework.  It 's  too  awfully  gen 
eral." 

I  am  to  spend  certain  hours  in  the  kitchen, 
which  will  pay  for  my  lodging  and  meals  till  I 
can  find  another  place. 

Mrs.  de  Puyster-Jones  informed  me  yesterday 
that  I  was  by  far  the  most  "  impossible  creature  " 
she  had  ever  seen ;  this  when  we  were  having  our 
heart-to-heart  talk  after  luncheon. 

"  In  that  case,"  I  observed  thoughtlessly,  "  I 
would  better  not  stay  with  you." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  75 

"  Don't  be  impertinent,  Annie,"  said  Mrs.  Jones, 
severely. 

On  this  particular  shelf  —  the  kitchen  shelf  — 
I  find  that  a  well-turned  or  even  grammatical 
sentence  is  regarded  as  impertinent.  I  wonder 
why  ? 

"I  wasn't  meanin'  to  be  imper'ent,  ma'am,"  I 
ventured,  endeavoring  to  repair  the  breach.  "  I 
ain't  been  brought  up  that  way.  But  I  think  as 
how  I  ought  to  have  a  decent,  clean  bed  to  sleep 
in  ;  and  I  should  like  to  arrange  the  work  so  that 
I  would  know  exactly  what  I  was  to  do  and  when 
I  was  to  do  it.  I  hope  that  ain't  unreasonable  of 
me,  ma'am." 

I  said  this  in  a  really  humble  and  conciliatory 
tone.  In  the  language  of  the  shelf,  I  was 
"  meachin'." 

Mrs.  Jones  rose  with  a  Jove-like  expression  of 
indignation. 

"  That  will  do,  Annie,"  she  said  peremptorily. 
"You  may  go  at  once.  I  have  already  told  you 
that  I  hire  a  girl  for  my  convenience,  and  for  that 
alone.  You  are  utterly  unfit  to  remain  in  my 
house." 


76  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

Subsequently  she  gave  me  my  carfare,  remark 
ing  that  I  had  not  earned  my  board  during  the 
twenty-four  hours  spent  under  her  roof. 

Is  it  possible  that  I  am  really  stupider  than  the 
average  servant  girl  ?  What,  then,  is  education  ? 


CHAPTER  VI 

I  HAVE  found  it  wonderfully  easy  to  turn  a 
new  leaf  in  this  particular  book  of  experience. 
I  no  longer  wonder  at  the  shifting  population 
of  our  kitchens ;  what  could  be  more  tempting 
to  the  average  feminine  mind  than  the  ability  to 
drop  at  will  any  given  problem  of  domestic  life 
and  begin  a  brand  new  one  on  a  fresh  slate  ? 

I  found  the  befrizzled  mistress  of  the  intelli 
gence  office  as  imperturbable  as  before.  She 
seemed  neither  surprised  nor  displeased  at  my 
lack  of  success,  dismissing  the  matter  with  a 
curt  "Those  kind  mostly  changes  frequent." 

I  did  not  venture  to  inquire  whether  "those 
kind "  referred  to  my  late  mistress  or  to  me  or 
to  both,  and  Mrs.  Lehn  did  not  enlighten  me. 
I  was  obliged  to  lay  bare  my  financial  embarrass 
ments,  and  she  kindly  consented  to  take  a  dollar 
down,  the  other  dollar  to  be  charged  against  my 
first  week's  wages  in  a  new  place. 

77 


78  The  Singitlar  Miss  Smith 

"  But  suppose  no  one  will  keep  me  for  a 
week  ?  "  I  suggested  unhappily. 

She  looked  me  over  again  with  the  air  of  a 
shrewd  merchant  appraising  a  shop-worn  gar 
ment.  "You  ain't  bad  to  look  at  —  even  if  you 
ain't  experienced,"  she  responded  encouragingly. 
"There's  plenty  'at  'u'd  be  glad  to  get  you." 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  a  young 
and  extremely  pretty  woman  entered.  I  suppose 
it  is  because  I  am  not  the  least  bit  pretty  myself 
that  I  love  beauty  in  other  women.  The  young 
woman  was  tall  and  slender  and  very  smartly 
dressed  in  a  brown  cloth  suit  which  matched  her 
eyes  and  hair;  her  pretty  round  chin  nestled 
daintily  in  a  nest  of  dark  fur,  and  a  bunch  of 
violets  completed  the  effect.  The  smile  with 
which  she  introduced  her  dainty  self  and  her  er 
rand  revealed  charming  dimples  and  the  whitest 
of  teeth. 

"  Do  I  inquire  for  a  maid  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Lehn  assented,  while  rather  conspicuously 
completing  a  rapid  inventory  of  the  newcomer's 
toilet.  "I  guess  you  ain't  on  my  books,"  she 
added  thoughtfully. 


'A    YOUNG   AND    EXTREMELY    PRETTY    WOMAN    ENTERED. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  79 

"  You  mean  I  have  n't  been  here  before  ? " 
inquired  the  young  woman.  "  No,  I  have  n't 
I  am  just  commencing  housekeeping  -  "  she 
blushed  vividly  —  "  and  I  want  a  maid  to  —  to 
cook,  and  keep  the  rooms  in  order." 

"Washing  an'  ironing?"  inquired  Mrs.  Lehn, 
tersely. 

"Why,  I  don't  know;  I  hadn't  thought  about 
that.  Is  n't  it  too  much  work  for  one  maid  ?  I 
never  kept  house,  you  know." 

"  That 's  accordin',"  observed  Mrs.  Lehn,  tap 
ping  her  book  with  her  pencil.  "  I  guess  you 
want  a  cook  an'  a  second  girl.  I  can  send  you 
a  couple  o'  girls  this  afternoon,  or  any  time 
you  say.  Colored  or  white  ?  " 

"  How  much  do  they  cost  by  the  month  ? " 
asked  the  young  woman,  doubtfully. 

"  First-class  cook,  forty,  thirty,  twenty-five ; 
medium,  eighteen ;  second  girl,  twenty,  sixteen, 
fourteen,  'cordin'." 

The  young  woman  plunged  into  some  sort  of 
unaccustomed  mental  calculation  which  brought 
a  puzzled  frown  to  her  white  forehead.  It  made 
her  look  prettier  than  ever.  She  finally  sighed 


8o  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

and  shook  her  head.  "  No,  I  don't  think  I  want 
two  servants,"  she  said  decidedly.  "  We  live  in 
a  small  apartment  with  the  tiniest  kitchen ;  there 
would  n't  be  room  for  two  maids,  even  if  —  "  On 
second  thought  she  left  this  sentence  unfinished 
and  began  another  with  a  fleeting  glance  of 
inquiry  at  me.  "  I  think  I  want  just  a  nice  clean 
girl  to  —  why,  to  work,  don't  you  know,  and  — 
and  she  must  n't  be  too  expensive." 

"  General  housework,"  said  Mrs.  Lehn,  gloomily. 
"  .Experienced,  eighteen ;  raw  [she  pronounced 
itra^r],ten,  twelve,  an'  fourteen,  'cordin'." 

"  Could  I  have  —  a  —  one  of  the  twelve-dollar 
kind  to-day,  if  you  please  ? " 

I  started  forward  impulsively  in  answer  to  a 
second  appealing  glance  from  the  pretty  brown 
eyes.  "  Would  I  do,  ma'am  ?  "  I  asked.  "  I  am 
the  twelve-dollar  kind,  and  I  want  a  place 
to-day." 

The  preliminaries  were  quickly  arranged,  and 
as  I  had  my  bundle  of  working  clothes  with  me, 
I  left  the  intelligence  office  in  the  company  of 
my  new  mistress. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  liked  you  from  the  very  first," 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  81 

she  said  to  me,  as  Mrs.  Lehn's  door  closed  behind 
us.  "  You  —  you  look  so  different  from  the 
ordinary  maid.  I  hope  you  will  like  —  us." 

"I  shall,''  I  responded  with  conviction. 

My  pretty  mistress  lifted  her  little  head  with 
a  suggestion  of  hauteur.  "  My  name  is  Mrs. 
Richard  Ely,"  she  said  with  a  beautiful  blush, 
which  I  could  see  annoyed  her.  "  What  is 
yours  ?  I  did  not  think  to  ask  the  woman." 

I  hesitated  for  the  fraction  of  a  second.  "  My 
name  is  Anne  Smith,"  I  answered. 

"Anne  Smith,"  she  repeated  thoughtfully; 
"that  is  a  very  good  name  for  a  maid;  it  seems 
somehow  as  neat  and  suitable  as  a  clean  white 
apron.  Have  you  plenty  of  aprons,  Anne  ?  " 

"Why  no,  ma'am,"  I  confessed;  "I  have  only 
worked  out  for  a  little  while.  I  think  I  ought  to 
have  told  you  before  that  my  last  mistress  did  n't 
like  me  at  all.  I  only  stopped  with  her  one  day." 

"  Why  did  n't  she  like  you  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Ely, 
gravely. 

"Well,  ma'am,"  I  answered  truthfully,  "I  think 
it  was  because  she  wanted  the  eighteen-dollar  ex 
perienced  kind,  and  I  was  only  a  twelve-dollar  raw 


82  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

one.  I  tried  to  do  my  best,  but  she  said  I  was 
'  an  impossible  creature.' >: 

My  pretty  mistress  sighed  apprehensively.  I 
could  see  she  was  debating  as  to  whether  she 
ought  not  to  exchange  me  at  once  for  the  eighteen- 
dollar  variety.  "  What  is  it  to  be  —  raw  ?  "  she 
inquired  at  length.  "  I  did  n't  like  to  ask  that 
woman.  And  what  is  the  difference  between  ten, 
twelve,  and  fourteen  dollar  raw  ones  ?  " 

"  I  am  raw,"  I  answered  promptly,  "  because  I 
never  worked  out  much.  I  am  the  twelve-dollar 
raw  kind  because  I  am  twenty-seven  years  old, 
and  I  can  make  good  coffee  and  toast  and  lay  the 
table  neatly  and  wait  on  it  properly.  I  can  clean, 
too,"  I  added  somewhat  proudly,  as  I  remembered 
my  feats  in  the  De  Puyster-Jones  kitchen.  "  But 
I  don't  know  how  to  make  cake  or  bread,  and  I 
never  washed  and  ironed." 

"  I  am  glad  you  can  make  good  coffee,"  my 
mistress  said.  "  Mine  is  queer,  Dick  says." 

We  boarded  a  car  just  then,  and  as  I  sat  on 
the  opposite  side  from  my  mistress  we  did  not 
exchange  further  words  till  we  reached  our  desti 
nation. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  83 

It  was  a  very  tiny  apartment  at  the  top  of  a  tall 
building  in  a  quiet  up-town  street.  My  mistress 
unlocked  her  door,  with  one  of  her  vivid  blushes. 
"We  are  not  really  settled  yet,"  she  said,  glancing 
about  the  sparsely  furnished  little  rooms  with  a 
smile  and  a  sigh.  She  seemed  decidedly  out  of 
place  there  in  her  rich  furs  and  gown.  I  noticed 
her  hands  when  she  drew  off  her  gloves, 
they  were  white  and  slender  and  sparkled  with 
jewels. 

"  We  began  with  boarding,"  she  explained, 
looking  more  than  ever  like  a  girl  in  her  teens, 
as  she  showed  me  about  the  little  kitchen ;  "  but 
Dick  —  I  mean  Mr.  Ely  —  was  away  all  day  ;  the 
rooms  were  dingy  and  unpleasant,  and  I  had 
nothing  to  do  from  morning  till  night;  so  —  "  she 
stopped  short  and  glanced  at  me  almost  appeal- 
ingly.  I  could  see  that  she  was  thinking  herself 
very  foolish  to  confide  anything  to  the  discretion 
of  a  maid. 

There  was  a  gas  range  in  the  kitchen,  and 
the  mite  of  a  sink  commanded  an  extended  view 
of  box-like  back  yards  laced  with  clothes-lines. 
Opposite  the  sink  a  little  china-closet  disclosed  a 


84  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

dozen  or  so  of  shining  tins  and  some  pretty  blue 
and  white  china. 

"  I  made  the  breakfast  this  morning  all  by 
myself,"  said  my  mistress  with  a  girlish  laugh. 
"  I  tried  muffins  out  of  my  new  cook-book ;  but  I 
forgot  to  put  in  something,  —  I  think  it  was  bak 
ing-powder,  —  and  they  were  awfully  funny.  So 
was  the  coffee.  I  put  in  a  whole  egg,  too.  Dick 
was  so  amused,  but  he  said  he  did  n't  care  a  bit ; 
then  we  went  out  to  the  restaurant  and  had  break 
fast.  But  Dick  —  I  mean  Mr.  Ely  —  does  n't  like 
restaurants,  and  I  just  loathe  them.  I  never  was 
in  one  in  my  life  till  —  till  a  little  while  ago. 
Dick  said  he  thought  we  would  better  get  a  cook. 
So  I  got  you." 

"  But  I  'm  not  a  cook,"  I  said  with  dismay.  "  I 
never  made  muffins  in  my  life.  Don't  forget  that 
I  am  the  raw  kind." 

My  little  mistress  burst  into  a  joyous  laugh. 
"  Is  n't  that  too  absurd !  "  she  cried,  clapping  her 
hands.  "But  you  are  not  at  all  stupid  —  I  can 
see  that  very  well ;  and  then  you  are  ever  so  old 
—  you  don't  mind  my  saying  that,  do  you  ?  So 
you  can  study  things  out.  Don't  you  think  you 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  85 

can  ?  I  have  a  splendid  new  cook-book  with  a 
daily  menu  and  pictures  of  everything,  and  it  tells 
just  how  to  do  every  single  thing,  if  one  doesn't 
forget.  Now  for  dinner  to-night  —  I  thought  it 
would  be  lovely  to  surprise  Dick  with  a  beautiful 
dinner."  She  spread  an  imposing  cook-book  on 
the  table  and  bent  over  it  like  a  schoolgirl. 

"  Now  here  is  a  menu  for  December  sixteenth," 
she  said  doubtfully.  "  Do  you  think  this  sounds 
hard  ?  '  Pure"e  of  chestnuts ;  celery  ;  Cantonese 
chicken  with  macaroni ;  browned  mashed  potatoes ; 
cauliflower  with  white  sauce ;  orange  pudding ; 
coffee. '  I  don't  know,  though,  whether  Dick  likes 
cauliflower  or  not.  I  like  it  if  it 's  nice  and  white, 
the  way  it  used  to  be  in  the  garden  at  home ;  and 
Hannah  made  such  delicious  orange  pudding." 

Her  small,  round  chin  nestled  deeper  into  the 
rosy  palms,  and  a  momentary  mist  clouded  the 
bright,  dark  eyes.  She  jumped  up  presently  with 
a  laugh  which  sounded  suspiciously  like  a  half 
sob.  "  We  shall  have  to  go  to  market  and  buy  a 
lot,"  she  said  hurriedly ;  "  I  have  n't  half  the  things 
for  such  a  dinner." 

"Don't   you   think,"    I    suggested  respectfully, 


86  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  that  perhaps,  just  this  first  day,  —  considering 
that  I  am  raw,  —  it  would  be  better  to  have  some 
broiled  chops  and  some  baked  potatoes,  and  perhaps 
a  salad  of  nice  fresh  lettuce  dressed  with  oil  and 
vinegar  ?  You  might  buy  a  sweet  of  some  sort  at  the 
bake  shop,  you  know,  and  with  coffee  that  would  — 

"The  very  thing!"  cried  Mrs.  Ely.  "And 
do  you  know,  Anne,  it  will  be  our  very  first 
dinner  all  alone.  We  '11  go  right  away  and  buy 
the  chops  and  lettuce  and  things,  and  I  '11  help. 
I  just  love  to  cook,  only  at  home  Hannah  never 
wanted  me  to  come  in  the  kitchen.  She  was  as 
cross  as  two  sticks  whenever  I  tried  to  make 
things ;  or  else  she  'd  flatter  and  say,  '  Law,  Miss 
Gladys,  yo'  pa  don't  want  you  to  sile  your  purty 
white  fingers  in  dis  yer  kitchen,  nohow.'  But  I 
can  come  in  my  kitchen  whenever  I  want  to,  and 
cook  too.  I  'm  glad  you  're  raw,  Anne.  It  will  be 
lots  nicer  for  me." 

And  so  we  presently  set  forth  with  an  infini 
tesimal  basket,  out  of  which  my  young  mistress 
hastily  turned  a  tangle  of  silks  and  half-finished 
pieces  of  embroidery.  We  had  just  rounded 
the  corner  when  Mrs.  Ely  stopped  short  with  a 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  87 

little  cry  of  surprise  and  pleasure.  "  Oh,  Anne, 
there  's  Mr.  Ely  coming ;  you  '11  have  to  get  the 
things  alone.  You  know  how,  I  'm  sure.  I 
should  think  five  pounds  of  chops  would  be 
enough,  should  n't  you  ?  and  half  a  dozen  pota 
toes.  Here  's  my  purse,  Anne.  Dick  probably 
wants  me  to  take  a  walk  with  him." 

She  hurried  away  with  a  dazzling  display  of 
smiles  and  dimples  to  meet  the  tall,  blond  young 
fellow  who  was  tramping  up  the  street  with  his 
hat  drawn  low  on  his  forehead,  and,  it  seemed 
to  me,  a  troubled  look  on  his  handsome  face. 

As  I  contemplated  the  dainty,  silver-mounted 
purse  which  my  mistress  had  left  in  my  hand, 
I  remembered  that  the  subject  of  references  had 
not  been  so  much  as  mentioned  between  us. 

I  may  be  raw,  but  I  at  least  knew  better  than 
to  follow  Mrs.  Ely's  parting  directions.  It  was 
a  surprisingly  pleasant  task  to  select  the  articles 
for  that  first  dinner  of  theirs.  I  did  it  con  amore, 
and  climbed  the  stairs  to  my  new  home  with  a 
positive  glow  in  the  region  of  my  solar  plexus, 
which  no  amount  of  previous  concentration  had 
been  able  to  produce. 


CHAPTER   VII 

LOVE  stories  have  never  interested  me  in  the 
least.  I  associate  them  with  a  warm,  scented 
atmosphere,  —  how  I  loathe  Florida  water !  —  soft- 
cushioned  chairs,  and  little  gushes  of  sentimental 
tears.  Aunt  Nugent  has  read  thousands  of  them, 
I  verily  believe.  This  fact  in  itself  would  pre 
vent  me  from  ever  reading  one. 

Perhaps  it  is  this  primal  freshness  of  my 
emotions  which  makes  this,  my  first  tove  story, 
so  interesting.  My  little  mistress  has  evidently 
been  unaccustomed  to  being  much  alone,  so  after 
Mr.  Richard  Ely  has  finally  said  good-by  in  the 
morning,  —  this  sometimes  takes  a  long  time,  — 
she  quite  naturally  gravitates  to  the  kitchen,  as 
indeed  it  is  right  and  proper  for  a  careful  mis 
tress  to  do.  I,  of  course,  require  a  great  deal 
of  looking  after,  since  I  am  raw  and  only  the 
twelve-dollar  kind  at  that. 

Mrs.  Ely  encourages    me  by  praising  my  sue- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  89 

cesses ;  over  my  failures,  and  I  must  confess  to 
a  number,  she  merely  makes  an  adorable  little 
mouth  and  advises  me  to  hide  their  shortcom 
ings  in  the  decent  obscurity  of  the  corrugated 
iron  receptacle  which  the  janitor's  assistant  emp 
ties  of  a  morning.  My  conscience  is  pricking 
me  at  this  moment  by  reason  of  a  sponge-cake, 
compounded  from  nine  eggs  and  other  ingredi 
ents,  which  absolutely  refused  to  sponge  —  this 
with  eggs  at  thirty-five  cents  the  dozen. 

"  Hannah's  sponge-cake  always  rose  way  up 
to  the  very  top  of  the  pan,"  observed  my  mis 
tress,  mournfully  contemplating  the  ruins.  "  And 
it  smelt  so  good  and  lemony.  Daddy  liked  it, 
and  I  just  know  Dick  would,  too."  She  relapsed 
into  a  sort  of  a  revery  in  which  her  eyes  shone 
so  bright  that  I  was  not  surprised  when  a  min 
ute  later  she  burst  into  a  little  trill  of  laughter. 
"  Daddy  used  to  think  me  a  regular  baby  — 
even  after  I  was  seventeen,"  she  said  with  a 
reminiscent  air.  "He  never  let  me  go  out  alone ; 
but  Dick  saw  me  lots  of  times  out  driving.  He 
used  to  ride;  and  oh,  how  handsome  he  does 
look  on  a  horse !  A  tall,  brown  horse,  Anne ; 


90  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

and  he  always  wore  the  darlingest  riding-boots 
and  the  cutest  caps." 

I  was  listening  with  the  carefully  disguised 
interest  which  I  conceived  to  be  respectful ;  but 
she  stopped  short  and  began  to  pull  the  tins 
about  in  the  cupboard.  "  I  am  going  to  regulate 
this  pantry,  Anne,"  she  said  with  an  attempt  at 
sternness.  "  And  when  I  have  done,  you  must 
be  careful  to  keep  it  neat.  Will  you,  Anne?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  I  responded  gravely.  "  I  will 
try." 

"  Dick  and  I  bought  these  dear  little  scalloped 
pans  because  they  reminded  us  of  a  day  we 
would  n't  forget  for  worlds,"  observed  Mrs.  Ely, 
presently,  turning  her  bright  face  from  a  tender 
contemplation  of  some  fluted  muffin-tins.  "You 
know  Dick  —  I  mean  Mr.  Ely  —  could  n't  think 
at  first  how  to  get  acquainted  with  me ;  but  of 
course  after  he  made  up  his  mind,  it  just  had  to 
happen.  Don't  you  think  there  's  a  great  deal  in 
that,  Anne?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  do,"  I  replied  truthfully. 
"  Shall  I  make  an  omelet  or  some  creamed 
potatoes  for  your  lunch,  ma'am  ? " 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  91 

"  Yes,  please,  Anne  ;  you  really  do  them  very 
well  now.  And  do  you  suppose  you  could  bake 
some  scalloped  cakes  in  these  pans  ?  I  should 
like  to  have  them  on  the  sideboard  when  Dick 
comes  home.  I  wonder  if  he'll  remember  —  yes, 
it  is  exactly  six  months  ago  to-day,  Anne.  Our 
rector's  wife  was  giving  a  garden-party  for  the 
church,  and  daddy  let  me  go.  I  wore  a  sweet 
white  dress  and  a  broad  hat  trimmed  with  pink 
roses  ;  I  was  standing  under  a  tree  near  a  tea- 
table.  There  were  a  lot  of  scalloped  cakes  on 
it — I  always  remembered  that  —  and  just  then 
I  saw  Dick  —  I  mean  Mr.  Ely  —  coming  in  at 
the  gate.  Oh,  Anne,  I  forgot  all  about  my  pud 
ding  !  Why  did  n't  you  make  me  remember  ?  " 

The  hastily  opened  oven  disclosed  the  melan 
choly  and  smoking  ruins  of  a  faultless  meringue 
which  had  crowned  a  suspiciously  lumpy  pudding, 
the  creation  of  the  little  lady's  own  dainty  hands. 
"  That 's  what  comes  of  being  raw,"  I  said  humbly. 
"  It  was  my  fault." 

"  No,  it  was  mine,"  contradicted  Mrs.  Richard 
Ely,  winking  hard  to  keep  the  big  tears  from 
spilling  quite  over.  "  And  it  was  such  a  delicious 


92  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

pudding,  too.  I  know  Dick  would  have  liked 
it." 

She  sat  down  by  the  window  then  and  read 
solemnly  in  the  cook-book  for  at  least  fifteen 
minutes ;  a  passing  glance  revealed  the  subject 
which  was  bringing  so  perplexed  a  frown  to  her 
smooth  forehead.  I  afterward  perused  the  page 
myself.  It  was  headed :  "  Advice  to  Young 
Housekeepers  on  the  Management  of  Servants." 
It  began  thus:  "Never  linger  in  your  kitchen 
for  the  purpose  of  conversing  with  a  servant. 
Nothing  is  more  derogatory  to  your  own  dignity 
or  more  fatal  to  good  discipline.  Give  your 
directions  clearly  and  simply,  commenting  briefly 
on  what  has  been  well  accomplished,  and  more 
briefly  still  on  what  displeases  you.  An  imper 
tinent  or  unruly  servant  is  the  proper  complement 
of  an  unwise  mistress." 

Now  I  am  neither  impertinent  nor  unruly. 
But  being  raw,  there  is  no  telling  what  I  might 
become,  so  my  mistress  has  been  very  short  and 
crisp  in  her  communications  to  me  for  several 
days.  Yesterday  she  cried  for  a  whole  hour  in 
her  room  quite  alone,  and  later  came  out  to  the 


TJie  Singular  Miss  Smith  93 

kitchen  arrayed  for  the  street.  "Anne,"  she 
said  statelily,  "  I  am  going  out  for  a  walk.  You 
may  clean  the  windows  in  the  parlor  this  after 
noon,  Anne;  and  — "  her  brown  eyes  wandering 
uncertainly  about  my  neat  kitchen  — "I  am  sorry 
to  see  your  faucets  soapy,  Anne;  don't  let  it 
happen  again." 

She  seemed  very  much  pleased  with  herself 
after  saying  this,  and  beamed  upon  me  with  one 
of  her  sweetest  smiles.  "  Do  you  ever  get  home 
sick,  Anne  ? "  she  asked. 

"No,  ma'am,"  I  answered.  "  Do  y — "  I  bit 
off  the  question  just  in  time,  and  why  indeed 
should  I  ask  it? 

Mr.  Richard  Ely  is  a  tall,  broad-shouldered 
young  man  with  a  clear-cut,  straight-featured  face 
and  honest,  gray  eyes.  He  seems  to  me  very  like 
a  big  boy ;  though  of  late  when  he  looks  at  his 
pretty  wife  certain  grim  lines  creep  out  about  his 
mouth  and  chin  which  make  him  look  much  older. 

Mrs.  Ely  noticed  this  to-day.  I  had  just  been 
changing  the  plates,  and  the  door  was  not  quite 
closed  behind  me.  "  Don't  look  at  me  like  that, 


94  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

Dick,"  she  said ;  "you  're  not  cross  exactly,  but  I  do 
believe  you  'd  like  to  eat  me  instead  of  the  salad 
—  Anne  makes  such  good  salad,  too." 

The  young  man's  laugh  sounded  a  trifle  forced 
(in  the  kitchen).  I  heard  him  get  up  from  his 
chair  and  walk  around  the  table.  Then  I  knew 
without  seeing  or  hearing  that  her  pretty  head 
was  on  his  arm,  and  that  he  was  whispering  in 
her  pink  ear. 

I  coughed  discreetly  —  I  had  forgotten  the 
cheese  —  and  he  went  back  to  his  place,  laugh 
ing  without  any  pretence  this  time. 

Afterward,  when  I  was  washing  the  dishes, 
Mr.  Ely  came  into  the  kitchen  whistling  care 
lessly.  He  said  he  wanted  a  glass  of  water,  but 
stopped  me  when  I  would  have  fetched  it  for 
him.  "You  seem  a  good  sort,  Anne,"  he  said, 
his  eyes  resting  upon  me  with  a  frankly  inquiring 
gaze  which  yet  conveyed  the  impression  of  a  real 
anxiety. 

"  I  hope  so,  sir,  I  am  sure,"  I  said  with  a  decent 
self-respect. 

"  Well,  I  wish  —  Confound  it  all !  "  He  stopped 
short  to  bite  his  mustache  savagely.  "  The  fact 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  95 

is,  Anne,  Mrs.  Ely  does  n't  know  much  about 
housekeeping,  you  know,  and  I  '11  not  have  her 
bothered  ;  but  I  —  now,  I  hope  you  're  as  sensible 
as  you  look,  and  won't  fly  off  at  a  tangent.  The 
long  and  short  of  it  is,  that  we  're  spending  too 
much  on  our  housekeeping.  Don't  you  suppose 
you  could  — 

"  Economize  ?  "  I  suggested. 

"  Yes,  that 's  it ;  sort  of  cut  down  a  trifle,  don't 
you  know.  I  don't  care  about  kickshaws  myself, 
and  I  guess  that 's  what  counts."  He  was  feeling 
in  his  pocket  with  visible  embarrassment  as  he 
spoke.  '*  Don't  mention  this  to  Mrs.  Ely,"  he 
added,  and  depositing  a  silver  dollar  on  the  table 
somewhat  precipitantly  retired. 

Half  an  hour  later  Mrs.  Ely  appeared  in  the 
kitchen  door.  I  had  never  seen  her  look  so  radi 
ant.  "  I  am  going  out  with  Mr.  Ely,  Anne,"  she 
said.  "We  shan't  be  home  till  late,  because  we  're 
going  to  the  opera,  —  I've  been  just  dying  to  hear 
Calve  all  my  life.  Good-by,  Anne.  You  need  n't 
sit  up  for  us." 

The  silver  dollar  still  lay  on  the  table.  I  picked 
it  up  tranquilly  and  put  it  away. 


96  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

My  young  mistress  came  in  from  a  shopping  ex 
pedition  this  morning  in  great  spirits.  "  I  just 
love  to  buy  pretty  things,"  she  observed,  as  I 
helped  her  off  with  her  jacket.  "  Oh,  Anne, 
you  've  no  idea  of  the  bargains]  I  bought  the 
sweetest  waist  this  morning,  not  a  bit  showy  nor 
loud,  but  just  lovely.  It  was  a  Joubert  waist,  just 
reduced  from  fifty  dollars  to  twenty-five.  It  would 
have  been  a  sin  not  to  take  it ;  but  I  was  puzzled 
for  a  minute  to  know  how  to  manage.  I  only  had 
five  dollars  and  fifty  cents  in  my  purse  —  Dick 
gave  it  to  me  this  morning  for  the  housekeeping. 
But  the  shopkeeper  was  just  as  polite  and  accom 
modating  as  could  be ;  he  said  he  would  take  the 
five  dollars  and  send  the  waist  this  evening  —  I 
can't  think  how — it  reminded  me  of  fish,  I  know." 

"  Do  you  mean  C.  O.  D  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  that 's  it ;  but  then  I  only  had  fifty  cents 
left,  you  see  —  just  enough  for  carfare,  after  I 
bought  my  violets.  Afterward,  I  remembered 
about  the  dinner.  Is  n't  it  ridiculous,  Anne  ?  How 
Dick  will  laugh  at  me  when  I  tell  him."  She 
went  away  singing,  while  I  rehearsed  the  role  of 
Old  Mother  Hubbard, 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  97 

"  Don't  bother  about  the  dinner,  Anne,"  said 
Mrs.  Ely  from  the  sink  where  she  was  arranging 
her  violets  in  a  bowl  of  fresh  water.  "  We  shan't 
mind  going  out  to  a  restaurant  for  once." 

I  remembered  my  pourboire.  "  Mr.  Ely  left  a 
dollar  with  me,  ma'am,  for  —  for  the  housekeep 
ing,"  I  said. 

"  He  did ! "  said  my  mistress,  in  a  surprised 
tone.  "Why,  how  odd  of  Dick.  I  wonder  how 
he  came  to  think  of  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Ely  said  he  did  n't  want  you  bothered, 
ma'am,"  I  replied  mendaciously. 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  's  lucky  he  did  it  this  once," 
observed  my  mistress,  with  a  displeased  lifting  of 
her  eyebrows;  "but  I  shall  tell  him  I  like  to  be 
bothered  with  my  own  housekeeping." 

Then  we  forgot  our  mutual  embarrassment  in  the 
fun  of  getting  up  a  dollar  dinner,  after  the  pattern 
of  an  elaborate  menu  in  the  cook-book.  It  was  a 
very  good  dinner,  too  ;  Mr.  Richard  Ely  enjoyed  it 
unaffectedly.  "  You  are  growing  into  the  cleverest 
little  housekeeper,  dear,"  he  told  her,  as  he  helped 
himself  to  cheese. 

Mrs.  Ely's  bright  eyes  sparkled  with  mischief. 


98  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"When  we're  quite  finished,  Dick,"  she  said,  "I 
have  the  very  funniest  thing  to  tell  you  about  this 
dinner.  We  should  have  been  dining  in  a  restau 
rant  to-night,  sir,  if  you  had  n't  been  foolish  enough 
to  leave  that  dollar  with  Anne.  I  'm  going  to  lec 
ture  you  about  it  too,  afterward.  Don't  you  know 
I  like  to  be  bothered  — for  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Ely  cast  a  slightly  reproachful  glance  at  me 
—  I  was  removing  the  crumbs.  "  I  don't  think  I 
understand,  Gladys,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  No,  of  course  you  don't,  dear  boy,"  responded 
Mrs.  Ely,  dimpling. 

Just  then  a  loud  step  sounded  in  the  passage. 
"  Dear  me,"  pouted  my  mistress,  "  I  do  hope  it 
is  n't  that  stupid  man  with  my  new  waist  before  I 
have  time  to  tell  you  the  joke.  But  you  might  as 
well  open  the  door,  Dick,  while  Anne  fetches  the 
pudding." 

I  am  sure  I  don't  know  why,  but  something 
prompted  me  to  consume  an  unconscionable  time 
in  removing  the  pudding  from  its  mould  and  dish 
ing  up  the  sauce.  When  I  finally  brought  it 
smoking  hot  into  the  dining-room  my  young  mis 
tress  and  master  had  disappeared  altogether.  So 


'YOU  ARE  GROWING  INTO  THE  CLEVEREST   LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPER, 
DEAR,'    HE   TOLD    HER." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  99 

had  the  man  who  brought  the  parcel.  I  hesitated 
for  a  moment,  then  ventured  to  tap  lightly  on  the 
closed  door  of  the  little  parlor.  "  The  pudding  is 
served,  ma'am,"  I  said  softly. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

HERE  I  am  at  home  once  more,  and  I  will  con 
fess  to  begin  with  that  it  seems  perfectly  delight 
ful.  I  am  sure  it  never  occurred  to  me  before  to 
be  the  least  bit  grateful  for  such  commonplace 
articles  as  porcelain  bath-tubs,  well-made  hair 
mattresses  —  yes,  and  smooth,  clean,  linen  sheets 
and  soft,  white  blankets.  I  even  sat  for  a  whole 
hour  in  one  of  the  most  cushiony  chairs  in  Aunt 
Nugent's  sitting-room,  while  she  plaintively  re 
hearsed  the  circumstances  of  Dr.  Gallatin's  recent 
engagement  to  Lucy  Brandon. 

"  It  was  announced  only  yesterday,"  sighed 
Aunt  Nugent;  "it  was  such  a  painful  surprise 
to  me,  my  love,  that  I  could  scarcely  have  slept 
a  wink  all  night  if  it  had  not  been  for  dear  '  Dr. 
Pilkington's  Evening  Reflections.'  I  had  Susan 
set  the  reading-lamp  right  at  the  bedside,  and 
I  'm  sure  I  must  have  stayed  awake  full  half  an 
hour  before  I  was  calm  and  resigned.  Why  did  n't 
you  come  home  before,  dear  Anne  ? " 

100 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  101 

"  I  could  n't,"  I  replied  seriously ;  "  I  was  hav 
ing  such  a  good  time." 

"  You  look  it,"  acquiesced  Aunt  Nugent,  shak 
ing  her  head  mournfully.  "  Well,  I  'm  sure  I  ought 
to  rejoice  if  you  can  view  the  matter  in  that  light. 
But  when  I  reflect,  my  love,  on  what  might  have 
been,  it  is  hard  for  me  to  be  reconciled." 

"  Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 
The  saddest  are  these,  it  might  have  been  ! " 

T  quoted  irreverently.  Then  we  went  out  for  a 
drive,  and  I  enjoyed  it  more  than  I  ever  enjoyed 
a  drive  in  my  life.  I  don't  remember  that  I  have 
noticed  before  how  comfortable  the  carriage  is. 
And  Winston  looked  so  handsome  and  dignified 
on  the  box.  He  was  perfectly  delighted  to  see 
me,  though  of  course  he  did  n't  dare  say  so. 
Dear  old  fellow,  I  have  raised  his  wages.  Aunt 
Nugent  declares  that  it  is  perfectly  absurd.  Per 
haps  it  is,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  faithful  service 
like  Winston's  cannot  be  paid  for  in  money. 

Mr.  Hilton  said  something  of  the  sort  when  he 
gave  me  my  month's  wages.  Mr.  Hilton  is  Mrs. 
Ely's  father.  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  deserve 
a  whole  month's  wages  since  I  had  only  been 


IO2  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

in  the  place  three  weeks,  and,  besides,  I  had  fre 
quently  been  wasteful. 

He  looked  at  me  so  sharply  that  I  regretted 
my  expansive  honesty ;  I  fear  it  is  n't  after  the 
usual  custom  of  the  shelf. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  you 
remind  me  strongly  —  very  strongly,  in  fact  — 
of  an  old  college  friend  of  mine?  The  name  is 
the  same,  too,  —  Smith.  John  Smith  was  his 
name.  If  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  he  died 
a  very  wealthy  man,  I  should  be  inclined  to  ask 
you  some  questions." 

As  it  was  he  did  put  me  through  a  species  of 
civil-service  examination,  and  ended  by  inviting 
me  to  travel  in  Europe  with  Mrs.  Ely  in  the 
capacity  of  lady's  maid.  They  are  all  going 
abroad  for  a  year.  Of  course  I  refused ;  my 
experiments  on  the  kitchen  plane  do  not  include 
a  sojourn  in  foreign  parts. 

I  wonder  just  how  long  I  should  have  remained 
with  the  Elys  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  Joubert 
waist.  I  certainly  had  no  intention  of  leaving 
when  my  mistress  bade  me  "go  away,"  after  I 
had  announced  the  pudding.  She  was  crying 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  103 

bitterly,  I  could  hear  that,  and  I  deliberately  — 
yes,  deliberately  and  without  a  blush  —  listened 
at  the  door  till  I  heard  Mr.  Richard  Ely  say,  in 
that  deep,  boyish  bass  of  his :  "  Don't  cry  so, 
darling  little  wife.  Of  course  you  did  n't  know, 
sweetheart  —  I  could  n't  bear  to  tell  you.  I 
thought  I  could  manage  it  some  way  so  you 
would  n't  find  out  what  a  beggar  you  had  married. 
But  I  shan't  always  be  one,  dear." 

I  went  away  then,  and  carefully  put  the  pud 
ding  in  the  safe.  It  would  do,  I  thought,  for  to 
morrow's  dinner.  Then  I  took  the  cook-book 
and  set  myself  to  study  the  chapter  on  domestic 
economy  as  I  never  studied  it  before.  I  served 
hash  on  toast  for  breakfast  for  the  next  three 
mornings,  and  the  two  of  them  partook  of  it 
meekly,  though  I  afterward  learned  a  better  way 
of  disposing  of  left-overs. 

The  leave-taking  was  very  protracted  indeed 
that  day,  and  Mrs.  Ely  did  not  come  to  the 
kitchen  for  a  long  time  afterwards.  This  made 
me  a  little  uneasy,  so  after  a  while  I  contrived  an 
errand  to  the  parlor.  There  sat  my  little  mis 
tress,  her  sweet  face  drooped  over  a  lapful  of 


104  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

multi-colored  socks,  one  of  which  she  was  labori 
ously  mending  with  embroidery  silk.  She  looked 
up  with  a  startled  blush  when  I  tapped  on  the 
half-open  door.  "  Oh,  Anne,"  she  said  plain 
tively,  "  do  you  know  how  to  darn  stockings  ? 
This  hole  looks  awfully  queer  to  me  now  I  've 
sewed  it  up.  The  housekeeper  always  used  to 
do  our  mending.  Mother  died  when  I  was  a 
tiny  baby,  you  know,  so  I  did  n't  learn  ever  so 
many  things  that  I  ought  to  have  learned.  I 
don't  believe  daddy  thought  I  would  ever  need 
to  know  anything  about  work.  But  I  do,  Anne, 
and  I  shall  have  to  try  as  hard  as  I  can  to  learn." 
Now  it  chanced  that  fine  darning  is  one  of  my 
few  accomplishments.  Aunt  Nugent,  who  is  an 
exquisite  needlewoman,  insisted  upon  that  much. 
How  I  used  to  detest  the  hours  spent  in  her  room  ! 
I  was  distinctly  glad  now  that  I  was  mistress  of 
the  womanly  art.  The  "queer-looking  hole"  was 
first  reduced  to  its  normal  dimensions ;  then  I 
gave  the  little  lady  her  first  lesson  in  darning. 
She  was  pathetically  grateful,  and  followed  me 
out  to  the  kitchen  when  the  stockings  were  finally 
put  away  in  neat  rolls. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  105 

"  I  don't  know  a  bit  more  about  cooking  than  I 
do  about  sewing,"  she  sighed,  pulling  the  cook 
book  toward  her  with  a  puzzled  frown.  "  It 
seems  to  me  cooking  is  harder  to  remember  than 
even  geometry  —  and  I  never  understood  the  first 
word  of  that.  I  should  think  it  might  develop 
the  mind  just  as  well  to  learn  useful  things  as  a 
jumble  of  theorems  and  stuff  that  one  forgets  as 
soon  as  possible.  Now  you  know  a  lot  about  use 
ful  things,  Anne,  and  yet  you  look  really  educated. 
Indeed  you  do,  Anne;  Dick  —  I  mean  Mr.  Ely  — 
and  I  were  talking  about  it  yesterday,  and  Dick 
said  he  thought  I  was  as  lucky  as  could  be  to  get 
you  for  twelve  dollars.  I  think  so  too,  and  I  mean 
to  have  you  stay  with  us  always,  just  as  Hannah 
stays  at  home.  Why,  it  would  seem  too  queer  for 
anything  without  Hannah.  Daddy  says  she  's  a 
part  of  the  furniture." 

I  began  to  meditate  on  the  subject  of  "  Daddy" 
as  I  looked  at  the  sparkling  little  face  bent  over 
the  cook-book.  It  is  singular  how  often  I  am  in 
clined  to  use  the  adjective  "little"  in  connection 
with  Mrs.  Richard  Ely.  As  I  said  in  the  begin 
ning,  she  is  tall  —  as  tall  as  I,  and  I  measure  full 


io6  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

five  feet  eight  inches.  I  think  it  must  be  because 
of  the  exquisite  girlish  slimness  of  her  shape,  and 
the  delicacy  of  her  features. 

I  rattled  the  plates  loudly  to  hide  my  embarrass 
ment  while  I  put  a  question.  "  Will  your  father 
be  coming  to  visit  you  soon,  ma'am  ? "  It  was  a 
decided  impertinence,  but  I  put  a  bold  face  on  it. 
"  I  was  thinking  we  ought  to  learn  some  new 
dishes,  so  if  he  came  unexpectedly,  we  — 

Her  face  paled  and  quivered.  "  Oh,  Anne,"  she 
breathed,  "  daddy  does  n't  even  know  where  I 
live." 

I  cut  two  slices  of  bread  with  deliberation. 

"I  —  we  —  were  married  —  rather  unexpectedly 
to  daddy,  and — and  —  he  was  very  angry  with 
Dick.  He  sent  me  a  letter  to  say  —  good-by." 
She  was  almost  sobbing  now,  her  face  bent  low 
over  the  cook-book. 

"  In  that  case,"  I  said,  calmly  turning  to  the 
range  with  the  toasting-fork,  "  I  should  write  and 
invite  him  for  a  week's  visit." 

"  Oh,  Anne,  should  you  ? " 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  certainly  should.  He  '11  be  sure 
to  want  to  see  you  by  this  time." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  107 

She  stayed  quietly  in  her  own  room  after 
luncheon,  and  about  three  o'clock  appeared  at  the 
kitchen  door  to  tell  me  she  was  going  out  for  a 
walk.  "I  decided  —  to  take  your  advice,  Anne," 
she  turned  back  to  say  with  a  quivering  smile, 
"  and  —  and  —  Anne,  would  you  —  I  mean,  do  you 
think  —  if  I  should  n't  tell  Mr.  Ely  —  until  daddy 
comes,  you  know;  just  for  a  surprise —  It  would 
be  a  lovely  surprise  for  Dick,  would  n't  it?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  I  assented  gravely.  "I 
should  keep  it  for  a  surprise  by  all  means." 

Then  I  fell  into  a  shameful  state  of  trepidation, 
during  which  I  broke  the  butter-dish  and  dented 
the  best  sauce-pan.  Suppose  the  man  won't 
come !  Or  suppose  he  should  come  in  the  guise 
of  a  roaring  dragon  to  break  up  this  dove-cote !  I 
felt  tolerably  certain  of  one  thing,  and  that  was 
the  surprise  in  store  for  Mr.  Richard  Ely. 

On  the  fifth  afternoon  after  my  mistress  mailed 
her  letter,  I  was  alone  in  the  kitchen.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ely  were  out,  and  I  was  busy  preparing  the 
vegetables  for  dinner.  There  was  a  heavy  step  in 
the  passage,  and  a  sharp  rat-tat  sounded  on  the 
panels  of  the  door.  I  opened  it,  thinking  it  might 


lo8  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

be  the  woman  with  the  laundry.  A  big,  ruddy- 
faced,  white-bearded  man  confronted  me.  "  Hello ! " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Who  's  this  ?  " 

I  knew  him  in  a  minute.  "  My  mistress  is  out, 
sir,"  I  said  civilly.  "  Won't  you  walk  in,  if  you 
please,  sir? "  I  ushered  him  into  the  little  parlor, 
where  the  first  thing  his  eyes  rested  upon  was  a 
photograph  of  himself  in  golf  clothes.  Mrs.  Ely 
had  arranged  violets  beneath  it  in  a  tiny  vase. 

"Humph!"  ejaculated  the  old  gentleman,  blow 
ing  his  nose  violently.  "  Guess  I  've  struck  the 
right  place.  Hold  on,  you  —  I  had  begun  to 
retreat  kitchenward.  "Who  are  you,  anyhow?" 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Ely's  maid,  sir,"  I  replied,  glad  of 
my  clean  white  apron  and  irreproachable  collar. 

"Well,  well,  well,  upon  my  soul!"  he  exclaimed 
irrelevantly.  "  Where 'd  you  say  your  mistress 
is?" 

"  She  is  out  walking  with  Mr.  Ely,  sir." 

At  this  he  exploded  violently  under  his  breath, 
his  face  turning  so  purple  that  I  was  alarmed  for 
an  instant.  "Does  the  puppy  treat  her  well?"  he 
demanded  fiercely. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  sir,"  I  said  with 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  109 

tranquil  stupidity ;  "  there  's  no  puppy  about  the 
place  that  I  know  of,  sir." 

The  old  gentleman  burst  with  a  great  laugh,  and, 
being  seemingly  restored  to  good  humor  by  it,  be 
gan  a  leisurely  tour  of  inspection  about  the  prem 
ises.  "  You  can  go  about  your  business,  my  girl," 
he  said  to  me.  "  And  mind  you  get  a  good  din 
ner;  I  'm  as  hungry  as  a  hunter." 

Not  long  afterward,  when  the  rightful  propri 
etors  of  the  menage  suddenly  appeared  in  the 
kitchen,  I  almost  upset  the  custard  pudding. 

"Why,  Anne,"  exclaimed  my  young  mistress, 
"did  we  startle  you?  We've  brought  home  the 
prettiest  little  angel  cake  for  dinner.  It 's  Mr. 
Ely's  birthday,  and  I  'm  going  to  put  candles  on 
it.  Give  me  the  candles,  Dick." 

She  began  sticking  pink  tapers  about  the 
edge  of  her  cake,  laughing  childishly,  while  Mr. 
Ely  watched  her  with  a  happier  face  than  I  had 
seen  him  wear  for  many  days.  Just  then  the 
door  from  the  dining-room  opened  noisily,  and 
the  ruddy-faced  old  man  stepped  into  the 
kitchen.  "Hello,  sweetheart,"  he  called  out 
cheerfully ;  "  is  dinner  'most  ready  ? " 


HO  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

Mr.  Richard  Ely's  face  was  a  study  during 
the  minute  and  a  half  that  Mrs.  Ely  was  lost  to 
sight  in  a  profusion  of  white  whiskers  and  big 
arms.  "Oh,  daddy,"  she  sobbed,  "I  never  knew 
before  how  much  1  loved  you !  " 

"It's  just  as  I  expected,  then;  this  young- 
jackanapes  has  been  abusing  you,"  growled  the 
old  man,  glaring  implacably  at  Mr.  Richard  Ely 
over  his  daughter's  bent  head. 

"  Why  are  you  here,  sir  ? "  demanded  the 
young  man,  his  blue  eyes  flashing  something 
very  like  fire. 

"Why  am  I  here,  sir?  Because  I  was  in 
vited,  sir.  Your  wife  here  invited  me  to  visit 
her.  Did  n't  she  ask  your  permission  ? " 

"Oh,  daddy,"  sighed  Mrs.  Ely,  bestowing  an 
other  rapturous  kiss  on  the  old  gentleman's 
ruddy  cheek,  "please  don't  be  absurd.  I  in 
vited  you  for  a  surprise  for  Dick  —  and  to  think 
it 's  his  birthday,  too  !  " 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  carefully. 
Then  both  of  them  burst  out  laughing.  "  Are 
you  surprised,  sir  ? "  roared  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Richard  Ely,  "  I  am." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  1 1 1 

Of  course  they  did  n't  stay  in  the  kitchen  after 
that,  and  I  was  glad  of  it ;  that  kitchen  was  at 
best  a  tight  fit  for  four,  and  I  wanted  it  all  to 
myself  just  then.  My  dinner  was  a  perfect  suc 
cess.  I  served  it  with  an  honest  pride  and 
pleasure  which  I  shall  never  forget. 

I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  only 
knowledge  worth  having  is  usable  knowledge 
used.  Any  other  sort  quickly  becomes  dusty 
rubbish. 

I  have  been  at  home  two  weeks  to-day. 
What,  after  all,  was  the  good  of  my  late  experi 
ments  ?  I  find  that  I  am  more  dissatisfied  than 
ever.  Once,  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  I  remem 
ber  driving  out  with  Aunt  Nugent.  Something 
happened  to  the  carriage,  and  we  were  forced 
to  stop  for  an  hour  while  a  blacksmith  put  it  to 
rights.  There  was  a  cottage  just  across  the 
road,  shut  off  from  the  street  by  a  flowering 
hedge.  After  a  little  I  ventured  to  look  through 
the  hedge,  and  saw  two  children  playing  at  tea- 
party  under  an  apple  tree.  I  had  never  played 
at  tea-party  under  an  apple  tree  in  my  life,  so 


112  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  stood  there  peeping  enviously  till  Aunt  Nugent 
called  me  away. 

"Wait  just  a  minute,  aunty,"  I  begged;  "I 
want  to  see  them  eat  their  round  cake."  But  I 
was  n't  allowed,  and  presently  rolled  away  in  the 
carriage  feeling  distinctly  injured. 

If  one  cannot  have  a  round  cake  for  one's  self, 
it  may  be  sorry  comfort  to  look  on  at  another's 
feast.  But  it  is  something  everybody  wants  to 
do  just  the  same. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  kitchen  shelf  draws  me  with  a  curious  but 
wholly  irresistible  fascination.  I  must  be  perfectly 
honest  with  myself,  however  well  it  would  sound 
to  affirm  that  I  am  returning  to  it  because  of  a 
profound  interest  in  sociological  reform.  Aunt 
Nugent  attributes  my  desire  to  go  away  a  second 
time  to  ill-concealed  chagrin  over  Dr.  Gallatin's 
easy  resignation  to  fate  and  the  rather  mature 
charms  of  Lucy  Brandon.  "My  poor,  dear  child," 
she  said,  regarding  me  with  moistened  spec 
tacles,  "  do  let  aunty  go  with  you  and  help  you 
to  bear  it." 

"  Bear  what,  aunt  ? "  I  inquired  tartly. 

"  You  should  n't  try  to  hide  anything  from  me, 
my  love,"  she  sighed.  "I  have  learned  to  read 
between  the  lines." 

I  laughed   disagreeably,  and  went  on  with  my 
packing.     I  am  performing   this   duty  myself,  to 
Lizzie's  manifest  annoyance. 
i  113 


114  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  I  hope  you  will  write  me  more  frequently  than 
you  did  last  time,"  went  on  Aunt  Nugent.  "Your 
letters  are  always  so  unsatisfactory  ;  they  are  more 
like  letters  from  one's  man  of  business,  I  am  sure, 
than  from  a  young  lady  to  a  female  relative. 
Letter-writing,  my  child,  is  fast  becoming  one  of 
the  lost  arts." 

I  abjectly  promised  all  sorts  of  impossibilities, 
and  finally  got  away  in  the  edge  of  the  evening, 
which  kindly  concealed  the  shortcomings  of  my 
travelling  costume  from  interested  eyes.  Mrs. 
Buckle  was  unaffectedly  glad  to  see  me.  I  am 
to  work  for  my  board  as  heretofore  while  suiting 
myself  with  a  place. 

Mrs.  Buckle  says  I  am  not  at  all  stupid  in  the 
kitchen,  and  I  really  wait  on  the  table  to  per 
fection.  Nobody  at  Mrs.  B.'s  table  appreciates  my 
skill,  however.  To  quote  the  good  lady's  own 
words,  "  All  they  wants  is  to  eat  and  git."  The 
boarders  are  mostly  factory  and  shop  girls,  with 
a  sprinkling  of  respectable  "  single  gents " 
mechanics  and  the  like.  I  find  there  are  well- 
established  social  lines  in  Mrs.  Buckle's  estab- 


Tlie  Singular  Miss  Smith  115 

lishment  as  elsewhere.  For  example,  the 
black-haired,  red-cheeked  young  woman  who 
occupies  Mrs.  Buckle's  second-story  front  all  by 
herself  is  a  very  fashionable  person  indeed.  She 
is  a  forewoman  —  I  mean  lady  —  in  a  stocking 
factory,  and  looks  down  from  her  exalted  emi 
nence  upon  the  humbler  toilers  who  sleep  in  the 
many-bedded  back  rooms. 

Miss  Stella  Kimbark  —  for  such  is  the  fore- 
lady's  name  —  is  wonderfully  small  about  the 
waist,  which  seems  indeed  curiously  to  divide  her 
person  into  sections  like  an  insect.  The  upper 
division  sustaining  a  great  quantity  of  beads, 
fringes,  and  glittering  pins  variously  disposed 
upon  its  rotund  surface ;  the  lower  division  exhib 
iting  a  vast  quantity  of  swishing,  rustling,  be- 
ruffled,  and  befrilled  draperies. 

Miss  Kimbark  scowls  at  me  haughtily  while 
ordering  me  to  fill  her  glass,  or  to  pass  her  plate 
for  pie.  More  frequently  she  does  not  see  me 
at  all,  even  when  I  venture  a  humble  "good 
morning"  with  the  daily  paper,  subscribed  for 
by  all  the  boarders,  but  invariably  laid  at  Miss 
Kimbark's  place  on  the  breakfast  table.  The 


n6  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

young  woman,  if  she  happens  to  be  in  a  good 
humor,  will  frequently  entertain  the  entire  table 
with  spicy  bits  culled  from  the  fashion  or  society 
columns. 

"  Say,  ladies  and  gents,"  she  announced  this 
morning,  "  I  am  truly  grieved  to  say  that  pom 
padours  are  goin'  out  for  sure ;  it 's  the  proper 
caper  now  to  part  your  hair  in  the  middle  and 
do  it  up  in  a  bun,  with  smashin'  big  hair-pins.  It 
ain't  a  bit  becomin'  to  yours  truly,  an'  I  sh'll  stick 
to  my  frizzed  pomp.  What 's  good  enough  for 
the  royal  princesses  of  England  is  good  enough 
for  me." 

Even  brute  atoms  are  said  to  revolve  in  circles 
about  a  central  point.  Speaking  of  atoms,  it  gives 
one  an  odd  feeling  to  regard  a  cracked  tea-cup  or 
a  greasy  dish-cloth  and  conceive  of  it  as  composed 
of  systems  of  atoms  in  active  rotary  motion. 
After  all,  what  is  the  good  of  being  any  sort  of  an 
atom  ? 

I  asked  Mrs.  Buckle  to-day  if  she  thought  life 
was  worth  living ;  the  two  of  us  were  washing 
dishes  in  the  murky  kitchen  in  an  atmosphere 
heavily  charged  with  greasy  mutton,  fried  pan- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  117 

cakes,  and  yellow  soap.  Mrs.  Buckle  has  un 
doubtedly  passed  the  greater  part  of  her  life 
in  a  similar  environment.  It  gives  one  an  odd 
complexion. 

"  Now  don't  you  go  to  gettin'  down-hearted, 
Annie,"  she  said  kindly.  "  I  'm  perfec'ly  willin' 
to  keep  you  right  along,  now  't  you  're  gettin' 
broke  to  harness.  I  guess  I  c'd  afford  to  give 
you  as  much  as  a  dollar  'n'  a  half  a  week  an'  your 
board.  You  ain't  a  bit  like  some  o'  the  girls  I  've 
tried  to  keep,  an'  that  's  right.  Gracious,  I  got  so 
wore  out  with  'em  'at  I  'd  about  give  up  keepin' 
help." 

I  thanked  the  good  woman,  and  told  her  I 
would  certainly  stay  till  I  was  suited  with  a  place. 
"  But  you  have  n't  answered  my  question,"  I 
insisted. 

"  You  won't  be  askin'  it  long,  I  '11  bet,"  she 
chuckled.  "  Let  a  girl  get  a  holt  of  a  steady  beau 
an'  she  knows  life  's  worth  livin'  all  right." 

"  But  I  have  n't  a  beau,"  I  said  honestly.  "  I 
never  had  one." 

"  Well,  you  '11  have  one  now  if  you  ain't  too  ter 
rible  toppin'.  Ain't  you  got  no  eyes  for  Joey?  He  's 


Ii8  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

fell  head  over  heels  in  love  with  you.  But  the'  's 
times,  Annie,  when  you  cert'nly  do  put  on  awful 
airs;  I  've  noticed  it.  I  dunno  where  you  ever 
learnt  'em ;  but  airs  don't  go  down  with  honest 
lads  like  Joey  —  'specially  as  you  ain't  really 
pretty." 

"  Who  is  Joey  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Why,  land  !  Ain't  you  found  out  who  Joey 
Larkins  is  ?  He  sets  acrost  the  table  from  Stella 
Kimbark,  an'  he  Jias  kep'  comp'ny  with  her  off 
an'  on.  Stella  's  ready  to  eat  you  alive  now,  —  so 
Emma  Pollock  tol'  me ;  an'  you  kin  bet  'at  Emma 
knows." 

That  same  evening  I  made  an  errand  about  the 
water-pitcher  to  Miss  Kimbark's  apartment.  It 
was  just  before  supper.  The  forewoman  of  the 
stocking  factory  stood  by  the  flaring  gas-jet  ex 
amining  her  complexion  in  a  hand-glass  with  a 
slightly  dissatisfied  air.  She  stared  at  me  with 
a  frown  that  drew  her  black  brows  in  a  straight 
line  across  her  face.  "  Put  down  that  pitcher," 
she  commanded  sharply,  "an'  come  here." 

I  obeyed. 

"  Now,  then,"  began  Miss  Kimbark,  coolly,  "  I 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  119 

want  you  should  explain  yourself.  Where  'd  you 
come  from  ?  An'  what  are  you  up  to  here  ? 
Don't  lie,  now."  Her  angry  black  eyes  pierced 
like  a  knife. 

"What  business  is  it  of  yours?"  I  retorted,  toss 
ing  my  head. 

She  interrupted  with  a  stamp  of  her  foot : 
"  Drop  that,  with  me ;  drop  it,  I  say !  You  ain't 
what  you  pretend  to  be,  I  know  that  much.  Now, 
what  you  doin'  here  ?  " 

"  How  should  you  know  anything  about  me  ?  " 

Miss  Kimbark  laughed  loudly.  "  How  should 
I  know  anything  about  you,"  she  repeated  de 
risively.  "  Well,  if  you  really  want  to  know,  I  '11 
tell  you.  I  've  been  in  your  room,  miss,  an'  over 
hauled  yer  togs." 

"  How  dare  you  do  such  a  thing  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  How  dare  I  ?  Why,  I  don'  know  as  it  took 
such  an  awful  sight  of  darin'  on  my  part,"  sneered 
the  lady.  "  I  jus'  toddled  right  in  yer  apartment 
an'  made  myself  to  home,  that 's  the  way  I  done  it. 
I  've  got  a  key  that  fits  most  locks  that  comes  my 
way,  an'  I  ain't  afraid  to  use  it  neither." 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  " 


I2O  77^(?  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  I  read  your  book.  The  impert'ence  of  you  to 
be  starin'  at  yer  betters  the  way  you  done.  I  c'd 
slap  yer  face  f er  you,  Miss  Big-eyes ;  makin' 
pretty  mouths  at  the  boarders,  an'  perkin'  up  yer 
chin.  I  got  on  to  the  fact  'at  you  had  n't  worked 
fer  yer  livin'  first  thing  I  seen  you.  Yer  hands 
must  ha'  been  tended  awful  careful,  I  sh'd  say, 
to  keep  'em  like  that.  Look  at  them  nails, 
now." 

"  Suppose  I  do  take  care  of  my  finger-nails,"  I 
said  coolly,  "and  suppose  I  like  to  write  what  I 
think  about  people  in  a  blank-book.  What  do 
you  propose  to  do  about  it  ? " 

She  stared  at  me  for  a  full  minute  before  reply 
ing.  "  Say,  I  ain't  on  to  your  curves  yet,  whoever 
you  be,"  she  finally  remarked.  "  But  never  mind, 
I  'd  like  to  know  one  thing.  Are  you  struck  on 
Joey  Larkins  ? " 

"  No,"  I  answered  promptly  and  truthfully.  "  I 
want  to  get  away  from  here,  anyhow ;  I  want 
another  place." 

"  What  kind  of  a  place  ?  " 

"Any  kind,"  I  answered  recklessly,  "except 
general  housework." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  121 

"  I  can  get  you  a  place  easy  enough,"  said  Miss 
Kimbark,  with  a  touch  of  pitying  scorn.  "  Law,  I 
c'd  get  fifty  places  to  do  most  anything  by  to 
morrow  night.  I  ain't  no  patience  with  folks  that 
get  out  of  work.  The  trouble  with  most  folks  is 
'at  they  're  as  limp  as  a  dish-rag.  There  's  more 
work  to  do  'an  there  is  folks  to  do  it  —  real  live 
folks,  I  mean." 

I  bowed  before  Miss  Kimbark's  superior  poise. 
She  is  the  sort  of  a  girl  who  would  prevail  on 
almost  any  shelf  in  the  china-closet.  If  she  had 
been  born  in  my  place,  for  example,  she  would 
have  adjusted  herself  to  her  inherited  niche  with 
out  the  slightest  difficulty,  and  she  would  not  have 
made  herself  and  other  people  vastly  uncomfort 
able  by  being  "  different." 

I  am  beginning  to  think  that  being  "different" 
is  merely  the  outcropping  of  an  insidious  sort  of 
pride.  I  must  have  wanted  to  be  different  or  I 
could  not  possibly  have  been  so. 

Well,  I  acknowledge  it.  I  did  want  to  be  dif 
ferent.  I  do  want  to  be  different.  I  am  different. 
So  there !  And  I  will  be  myself,  I  don't  care 
what  happens. 


122  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  have  had  a  brand-new  experience,  and  I  am  so 
shaken  up  by  it  that  I  feel  like  a  kaleidoscope  just 
before  the  bits  of  colored  glass  form  into  a  new 
figure. 

Mrs.  Buckle  sent  me  to  the  grocery  on  an 
errand  just  after  supper.  It  is  only  a  short  walk, 
and  I  have  never  felt  the  least  afraid  on  similar 
occasions.  I  had  hardly  left  the  house  when  I 
heard  a  heavy  step  on  the  sidewalk  behind  me, 
and  foolishly  quickened  my  pace.  Almost  in  a 
moment  I  was  overtaken,  and  to  my  horror  felt  an 
arm  passed  lightly  about  my  shoulders.  I  stifled 
a  scream  and  wrenched  myself  away. 

"  Don't  you  be  scared  of  me,  little  Annie,"  mur 
mured  a  big,  rumbling  voice.  "  Did  you  s'pose 
Joey  Larkins  was  a-goin'  to  take  it  out  in  just 
a-lookin'  at  your  sweet  face  for  evermore  ?  You 
kin  jus'  bet  he  ain't  that  kind." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  said  stupidly,  being 
really  too  frightened  to  think. 

Mr.  Larkins  here  endeavored  to  possess  himself 
of  my  hand  in  a  proprietary  manner.  "  I  guess 
you  ain't  nobody's  fool,"  he  said  confidently. 
"  Honest  now,  didn't  you  know  I  was  dead  gone 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  123 

on  you  ?  I  know  you  did,  you  little  sinner,  the 
ol'  lady  tol'  me  so  to-night.  It  was  I  'at  coaxed 
her  to  sen'  you  out  for  beans." 

Mr.  Larkins  paused  to  indulge  in  a  joyous  burst 
of  laughter.  He  was  a  big,  fresh-colored  young 
fellow,  with  a  crop  of  light-brown  curling  hair 
and  the  bluest  eyes  I  ever  saw.  I  am  almost 
ashamed  to  tell  it,  but  I  really  felt  a  thrill  of 
gratified  vanity  when  he  looked  down  at  me  from 
his  six  feet  two  of  brawn  and  muscle. 

"  I  want  you  should  keep  comp'ny  with  me, 
Annie,"  he  went  on  in  a  lower  tone,  "  an'  no 
foolin'  'bout  it,  neither.  I  'm  gettin'  good  wages 
reg'lar,  an'  I  've  ben  thinkin'  of  settlin'  down  for 
more  'n  a  year.  I  '11  tell  yo'  fair  an'  honest,  girl, 
that  I  kind  of  took  a  notion  to  Stella  Kimbark 
before  you  come ;  but  do  you  know,  Annie,  for  all 
you  ain't  half  as  handsome  as  Stella,  there 's 
somethin'  'bout  you  —  Well,  dash  it  all,  you  — 
you  're  different,  an'  - 

The  familiar  adjective  helped  me  to  collect  my 
dazed  senses.  "You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Larkins," 
I  said  decidedly,  "  but  I  —  I  could  n't  —  I 
paused  in  an  effort  to  remember  the  singular 


124  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

phrase  the  young  man  had  used.  He  had  cer 
tainly  not  proposed  marriage. 

"Couldn't  nothin',"  interrupted  Mr.  Larkins, 
roughly.  "  You  '11  keep  comp'ny  with  me,  that 's 
what  you  '11  do,  and  come  Easter  we  '11  get 
married,  an'  that's  right." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  get  married,"  I  mur 
mured.  "  Go  away,  please,  and  don't  talk  to  me 
any  more." 

"  Look  a  'ere,"  said  the  young  fellow,  seizing 
me  by  one  wrist.  "  You  don't  know  me  very  well, 
Annie,  but  I  c'n  tell  you  I  'm  no  softy,  an'  you 
can't  scare  me.  When  I  make  up  my  mind,  I 
makes  it  up.  You  're  the  girl  for  me,  an'  I  know 
it.  We  '11  wait  till  Fourth  of  July,  if  you  say  so, 
but  not  another  minute.  That  day  '11  see  you 

Mrs.  Joey  Larkins,  an'  don't  you  forgit  it.     That 's 

i 
Joey  short   and  sharp,  business   every    time  ;  but 

you  won't  be  sorry,  girl ;  I  love  you  true,  an'  I  '11 
stan'  'twixt  you  an'  the  world  every  trip.  I  will, 
honest." 

His  big  voice  trembled  and  so  did  his  big  hand. 
I  was  curiously  torn  between  real  gratitude  and  a 
wild  desire  to  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  the  whole 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  125 

thing.  The  gratitude  conquered  the  laughter 
before  I  opened  my  mouth  to  reply.  At  last  I 
had  a  lover  —  a  real  lover,  who  loved  me  I  And 
that  is  something  to  be  grateful  for  on  any  shelf 
of  the  china-closet.  "Joey,"  I  began,  —  the  name 
falling  quite  naturally  from  my  lips,  —  "  you  don't 
know  anything  about  me,  besides,  I  am  too  old  for 
you ;  I  am  twenty-seven." 

The  young  fellow  drew  back  a  little  and  stared 
hard  at  me.  "  I  don't  believe  it,"  he  blurted 
out  at  last.  "  You  —  you  can't  be  !  Why,  I  'm 
only  twenty,  an'  see  how  awful  big  I  am.  I  don't 
care  how  old  you  are,  anyhow." 

"  Yes,  you  do,"  I  said  firmly ;  "  you  don't  want 
to  marry  a  middle-aged  woman.  Go  back  to 
Stella  Kimbark,  she  —  " 

The  allusion  was  unfortunate.  A  fierce  crim 
son  surged  up  into  Mr.  Larkins's  big  face;  the 
veins  on  his  forehead  swelled.  "  I  might  ha' 
knowed  it,"  he  muttered.  Then  he  turned  on  me 
in  a  sort  of  blind  fury.  "  I  said  I  '11  have  you," 
he  muttered  between  set  teeth.  "  An  so  I  will, 
for  all  of—" 

His  sentence  was  never  finished.     A  huge  bulk 


126  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

of  shadow  moved  swiftly  betwixt  us,  and  Joey 
Larkins  was  whirled  violently  off  to  one  side. 

"  Let  go  the  girl,  you  hulking  fool ! "  said  a 
strong,  unfamiliar  voice. 

I  did  not  wait  to  hear  what  followed,  but 
hurried  away  as  fast  as  I  could.  I  suppose  the 
proper  and  sensible  thing  for  me  to  do  is  to  go 
back  to  Aunt  Nugent  at  once ;  but  I  am  posi 
tively  consumed  with  curiosity  to  see  what  will 
happen  next. 


CHAPTER   X 

WHEN  a  young  woman  deliberately  turns  her 
back  on  what  she  clearly  recognizes  as  the  right 
and  proper  course  of  action,  in  order  that  she 
may  see  what  will  happen  next,  it  is  hard  to  pre 
dict  her  future. 

At  this  critical  juncture  in  Anne  Smith's 
career,  Fate,  in  the  person  of  Miss  Kimbark, 
took  a  hand. 

Contrary  to  her  custom,  that  lady  was  sulkily 
silent  at  the  breakfast  table.  She  paid  no  heed 
to  the  folded  newspaper  at  her  elbow,  but  stole 
an  occasional  curious  glance  toward  the  person 
who  sat  at  the  end  of  the  table,  silently  consum 
ing  a  breakfast  of  fried  eggs,  corn  bread,  and 
coffee. 

He  was  a  tall,  powerful  man  ;  and  the  observ 
ant  Miss  Kimbark  noted  further  that  his  com 
plexion  was  freckled,  his  hair  and  beard  reddish 
and  abundant,  his  teeth  white  and  even,  and  his 

127 


128  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

eyes  hidden  behind  disfiguring  spectacles  of  a 
bluish  tint. 

"  Humph ! "  muttered  Miss  Kimbark,  as  she 
stirred  her  coffee  thoughtfully.  After  breakfast 
the  young  woman  sought  and  obtained  a  brief 
interview  with  Mrs.  Buckle. 

"  My,  but  you  are  a  'ummer !  "  observed  Mrs. 
Buckle,  admiringly,  when  Miss  Kimbark  had  put 
a  few  searching  questions.  "  'E  's  been  'ere  more 
'an  a  week  now,  'e  'as ;  an'  they  ain't  one  of  you 
girls  so  much  as  looked  at  'im  before.  But  'e  's 
a  real  gent'man,  that  'e  is,  even  if  'e  don't  'and- 
some  much.  'E  's  workin'  in  the  foundry." 

"  Foreman  ? "  inquired  Miss  Kimbark. 

"  No,  I  guess  'e  ain't,"  said  Mrs.  Buckle,  shak 
ing  her  head  regretfully.  "  'Is  name 's  Willyum  — 
Willyum  Brown.  I  always  liked  the  name  of 
Willyum,  'count  of  Buckle.  Now  don't  you  go 
to  fascinatin'  of  'im,  an'  break  'is  'eart  the  way 
you  done  with  Joey." 

Miss  Kimbark  tossed  her  head.  "  I  guess  Joey 
ain't  the  only  pebble  on  the  beach,"  she  ob 
served  haughtily. 

That  evening  when  Mr.  William  Brown  entered 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  129 

the  dining-room,  Miss  Kimbark  was  discovered 
languishing  in  the  one  extra  chair  which  the 
room  afforded.  The  foundry-man  stumbled  awk 
wardly  over  the  lady's  voluminous  draperies  in  a 
vain  attempt  to  reach  his  place,  then  drew  back, 
looking  startled  and  discomfited. 

"  Law,  never  you  mind  a  misstep,  Mr.  Brown," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Buckle,  genially,  who  chanced  to 
dart  into  the  room  at  that  very  minute.  "  Stella, 
she  's  awful  good-natured  ;  ain't  you,  Stella  ?  But 
I  donno  as  I  've  thought  to  interduce  you  two. 
Mr.  Willyum  Brown,  le'  me  make  you  'quainted 
with  Miss  Stella  Kimbark.  Miss  Stella  Kimbark 
—  Mr.  Willyum  Brown.  There  now,  you  c'n 
settle  it  'twixt  yourselves." 

Miss  Kimbark  acknowledged  the  introduction 
with  a  sweeping  bow,  which  produced  a  magnifi 
cent  jingling  sound  among  the  decorations  of  her 
person.  "  I  'm  glad  t'  make  yer  'quaintance,  Mr. 
Brown,  I  'm  sure,"  she  said  in  her  genteelest 
manner. 

Mr.  Brown  stared  at  Miss  Kimbark  for  an 
instant,  then,  muttering  something  unintelligible, 
again  attempted  to  gain  his  place. 


130  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

The  lady  prevented  this  with  practised  ease. 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  to  eat,  Mr. 
Brown  ?  "  she  inquired  coquettishly.  "  She  ain't 
brought  in  the  hash  yet."  The  slight  accent 
on  the  pronoun,  and  the  meaning  smile  which 
accompanied  it,  seemed  quite  lost  on  the  man. 
After  a  pause  Miss  Kimbark  added  in  a  low 
tone:  "Say,  I  seen  what  you  done  to  Joey  las' 
night,  an'  I  like  to  ha'  died  laughin'.  My,  wa  'n't 
he  s'prised,  though  !  " 

"  Insolent  puppy !  "  growled  Mr.  Brown,  color 
ing  shamefacedly. 

"  No,  he  ain't,"  giggled  Miss  Kimbark ;  "  he  's 
a  nice  boy,  Joey  is,  only  he  don't  know  his  mind. 
She  's  a  queer  one,  though ;  I  can't  make  her  out 
worth  a  cent.  Think  of  her  now  a-writin'  down 
in  a  book  a  lot  of  stuff  'bout  me.  Like  'nough 
she  '11  put  you  in  next." 

Mr.  Brown  seemed  suddenly  interested.  "  Who 
is  she?"  he  asked,  folding  his  big  hands  on  the 
back  of  the  chair  nearest  him.  Miss  Kimbark's 
eyes  followed  the  movement  absent-mindedly ; 
then  she  burst  into  a  shrill  laugh.  "  My,  if  that 
ain't  'nough  to  kill  corn ! "  she  exclaimed  with 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  131 

piquant  irrelevance.  In  a  lower  tone  she  added : 
"  I  '11  show  you  her  book  some  day  if  you  'd  like  to 
see  it;  I  know  how  to  get  a  holt  of  it.  Hush, 
here  she  comes  now." 

Annie  Smith  entered,  bearing  two  covered  dishes, 
and  Miss  Kimbark  dismissed  Mr.  Brown  with  a 
practised  wave  of  the  hand ;  then  sinking  haugh 
tily  into  her  place,  she  beckoned  the  menial  to  ap 
proach.  "  That 's  him  as  knocked  Joey  out  last 
night,"  she  whispered  loudly.  "  His  name 's 
Brown  ;  he  's  a  foundry-man,  an'  a  real  gent'man." 

Annie  Smith  crimsoned  indignantly.  But  her 
eyes  turned  upon  the  big  man  at  the  end  of  the 
table.  He  was  quietly  occupied  with  a  cup  of 
tea  which  Mrs.  Buckle  had  just  handed  him,  and 
apparently  heard  nothing. 

Mistress  and  maid  were  washing  dishes  in  the 
foggy  kitchen  that  night  when  the  excellent  Mrs. 
Buckle  took  it  upon  herself  to  administer  some 
wholesome  counsel  to  the  young  person  whom  she 
considered  under  her  charge. 

"  I  don't  want  for  to  be  nosey,"  she  began  with 
an  illustrative  sniff,  "  but  I  've  been  kind  of  won- 
derin'  'bout  you,  Annie,  ever  since  you  come  'ere. 


132  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

You  ain't  no  common  workin'  girl,  I  see  that  right 
off.  Is  your  pa  a-livin'  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  Anne,  "he  died  when  I  was 
fourteen." 

"  An'  yer  ma  ?  " 

"  She  died  when  I  was  born." 

"  Who  brung  you  up  ?  " 

"  A  distant  relative  of  my  mother's." 

"  There  wa'  n't  no  love  lost  there,  I  c'n  see  that," 
observed  Mrs.  Buckle,  sagaciously.  "Well,  she 
fetched  you  up  like  a  lady,  any'ow.  Not  that  I 
think  she  'd  ought  to  'ave  done  that.  She  'd  ought 
to  'ave  learned  you  how  to  work  an'  take  care  of 
yourself.  You  're  willin'  and  useful  'nough,  but 
you  ain't,  so  to  say,  got  sprawl.  There  ain't 
nothin'  like  sprawl  to  get  folks  ahead  in  the  world. 
That  was  the  endurin'  trouble  with  Buckle.  'E 
could  n't  never  get  nowhere  with  'is  work  ;  if  there 
was  anybody  laid  off,  it  was  sure  to  be  'im.  'E  used 
to  say,  'I  ain't  made  for  luck,  Car'line,  so  what 's 
the  use  of  tryin'.'  If  anybody  gets  that  idee  fixed 
in  their  minds,  they  won't  never  be  worth  shucks 
to  nobody." 

"  I  guess  that 's  what 's  the  matter  with  me,"  said 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  133 

Anne,  meekly.  "  What  would  you  do  if  you  were 
in  my  place  ?  "  she  added  with  unfeigned  interest. 

Mrs.  Buckle  had  fallen  upon  the  knives  and  was 
scouring  them  with  an  energy  that  approached  a 
fine  frenzy.  "  You  've  got  to  git  some  sprawl  first 
off,"  she  enunciated  briefly.  "  Think  yer  some 
body,  an'  c'n  do  things,  an'  ye  kin  do  'em.  I 
foun'  that  out  in  less  'n  a  year  after  I  'd  married 
Buckle ;  I  hed  to.  An'  another  thing  I  foun'  out 
was  that  folks  don't  think  no  more  o*  you  'an 
you  think  o'  yourself.  If  you  go  'round  kind  of 
meachin'-like,  sayin',  '  I  ain't  much  of  a  cook,  an'  I 
can't  do  no  washin',  and  so  I  'm  willin'  to  work  for 
most  anythin'  you  '11  give  me,'  why  you  c'n  go  on 
that-a-way  till  kingdom  come,  an'  don't  you  forgit 
it.  But  if  you  perk  up  an'  say,  '  I  'm  such  awful 
good  help  that  I  c'n  make  my  twenty  dollars  a 
month,'  you  gits  it  quick." 

"  But  suppose  a  girl  did  n't  care  much  about 
wages,  but  just  wanted  to  be  pretty  and  —  and 
have  people  like  her,  and  — 

Mrs.  Buckle  laughed  so  heartily  that  her  arti 
ficial  teeth  became  temporarily  loosened  in  rier 
mouth ;  she  restored  them  to  place  with  a  strenu- 


134  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

ous  click.  "  You  'd  ought  to  've  wanted  all  that 
ten  years  ago  !  "  she  ejaculated  briskly.  "  But 
land,  it  ain't  never  too  late  to  mend !  Nex'  time 
Stella  Kimbark  tosses  'er  'ead  so  'igh  and  mighty 
at  you,  jes'  you  say  to  yourself,  '  I  'm  'andsome 
myself,  that  I  am.'  The  gents  I  've  come  acrost 
are  all  pretty  much  alike.  If  you  git  right  down  to 
it,  you  '11  see  'at  they  allers  take  the  woman-folks 
at  their  own  price-tickets.  If  you  mark  yerself  a 
damidged  article,  to  be  sold  cheap,  you  won't  be 
run  after  by  gents  as  is  lookin'  for  a-number-one 
goods." 

Of  a  Sunday  the  excellent  Mrs.  Buckle  con 
ducted  her  establishment  after  the  manner  of  a 
good  church  woman,  which  she  was.  "  Prayers 
never  'urt  anybody  as  I  knowed  of,  an'  there 
ain't  no  tellin'  what  good  they  may  do  fer  a  body, 
if  done  reg'lar,"  she  was  wont  to  remark,  piously. 
"  I  'inders  nobody,  an'  nobody  'inders  me  when  it 
comes  to  church-goin'." 

It  came  to  pass,  therefore,  that  Annie  Smith, 
having  elected  to  attend  vespers  one  Sunday  after 
noon,  found  to  her  dismay  that  Mr.  Joey  Larkins 
occupied  the  pew  directly  in  front  of  her.  The 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  135 

sinful  desire  to  see  what  would  happen  next  thus 
led  quite  inevitably  to  a  second  interview  between 
the  young  woman  and  Mr.  Larkins  directly  after 
service,  in  the  process  of  which  Miss  Smith  suc 
ceeded  in  convincing  her  youthful  admirer  that 
she  could  never  become  Mrs.  Larkins. 

"  I  '11  bet  I  c'd  make  you  good  an'  sorry,"  re 
marked  the  young  man,  gloomily.  "  Suppose  I 
sh'd  write  down  on  a  piece  of  paper  that  you  won't 
have  me,  an'  then  go  an'  take  pison  —  Paris  green, 
or  somethin'  suddent.  How  'd  you  like  that  ? 
They  'd  find  the  paper  pinned  to  my  cold  corpse 
all  right." 

"  I  should  n't  like  it,"  returned  Anne,  promptly. 
"  Because  I  like  you,  Joey,  and  I  am  more  grate 
ful  to  you  than  you  can  understand ;  you  are  the 
only  man  who  ever  said  that  he  loved  me." 

Mr.  Larkins's  blue  eyes  sparkled.  "  I  '11  bet  a 
dollar  I  know  a  good  thing  when  I  see  it  all  right 
—  all  right!"  he  said  vaingloriously.  "What's 
the  matter  with  bavin'  me,  then  ?  " 

"  I  've  explained  all  that,  you  know,"  said  Anne  ; 
"  but  remember  I  'm  going  to  be  a  good  friend  of 
yours.  Now  you  must  say  good-by  and  leave  me, 


136  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

for  I  wish  to  walk  quite  alone  for  an  hour  before  I 
go  back." 

Joey  Larkins  obeyed  without  further  protest. 
Within  the  hour  he  was  led  by  a  vagary  of  kindly 
fortune  to  interview  Miss  Kimbark. 

"  Seemed  like  I  was  back  in  the  fourth  grade," 
he  said  wonderingly,  "  an'  she  was  the  teacher ; 
I  did  n't  das  to  say  no  more." 

At  which  Miss  Kimbark  stifled  a  singular  sigh. 
"  She  ain't  off  our  stripe,  Joey,"  she  said  soberly. 
"  But  I  'm  blamed  if  I  don't  kinder  like  her  after 
all." 


CHAPTER   XI 

STELLA  KIMBARK  informed  me  to-day  that  she 
had  a  place  in  view  for  me.  "A  reg'lar  cinch, 
too,"  she  added,  "  if  you  only  had  a  nickel's  worth 
of  sprawl." 

"  What  is  sprawl  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Sprawl,"  explained  Miss  Kimbark,  sarcasti 
cally,  "means  what  you  an'  most  other  folks  ain't 
got.  It  means  reg'lar  git-up-an'-go,  if  that  suits 
you  better ;  an'  what 's  more,  it  means  the  knowin* 
how  an'  when  to  git  up  an'  go." 

"  How  would  '  grasp  '  do  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  You  think  you  're  awful  smart,  don't  you  ? " 
sneered  Miss  Kimbark. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  I  said  honestly.  "  I  wish  I  did 
think  so ;  Mrs.  Buckle  says  that  is  what  ails  me. 
If  I  only  thought  I  was  smart,  I  would  be.  Do 
you  believe  that  ? " 

Miss  Kimbark  rattled  her  spangles  impatiently. 
"  How  should  I  know  what  you  'd  be,"  she  ex- 


138  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

claimed  with  fine  scorn.  "All  I  know  is,  you're 
an  awful  fool  to  stay  here  drudgin'  for  Ma  Buckle 
when  you  might  be  earnin'  your  sixteen  a  month. 
You  c'n  stay  if  you  want  to,  though,  for  all  of 
me,"  she  added  graciously. 

The  simplicity  of  the  masculine  idea  on  this 
particular  shelf  amazes  me.  It  seems  that  Mr. 
Larkins,  returning  from  church  on  Sunday  after 
noon,  in  a  downcast  and  gloomy  frame  of  mind 
not  induced  by  the  service,  encountered  Miss 
Kimbark  on  the  steps  of  the  boarding-house. 
Mrs.  Buckle  reported  the  crisis  as  follows  :  — 

"'E  made  as  tho'  'e  was  goin'  to  push  right 
past  'er  into  th'  'ouse ;  but  she  ups  an'  says  some- 
thin'  to  'im,  with  one  o'  them  smiles  of  'ern  —  an' 
you  can't  deny  that  Stella  's  'andsome.  Joey  'e 
kind  of  grinned,  then  off  they  starts  for  a  stroll. 
When  they  come  back,  I  c'd  see  they  'd  made  it 
up  betwixt  'em." 

That  same  afternoon  I  had  a  queer  adventure 
of  my  own.  After  bidding  Mr.  Larkins  a  final 
good-by,  I  started  off  at  a  brisk  pace,  half  inclined 
to  bring  up  in  the  dull  and  distant  part  of  the 
city  where  Aunt  Nugent  is  probably  engaged  at 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  139 

this  moment  with  Dr.  Pilkington's  "  Sabbath  Re 
flections."  I  had  n't  gone  far,  however,  when  it 
began  to  rain.  I  had  no  umbrella,  and  hesitated 
between  calling  a  cab  and  going  back  into  the 
church  porch  for  shelter.  I  finally  decided  upon 
the  latter  course,  chiefly  because  some  curious 
interior  sense  persists  in  telling  me  that  when  I 
go  back  to  my  proper  shelf  this  time,  I  must  stay 
there. 

I  was  congratulating  myself  upon  my  snug 
shelter  from  the  downpour,  when  I  saw  that  I 
was  not  alone.  At  first  I  did  not  recognize  the 
tall  man  who  stood  in  the  shadow,  leaning  upon 
his  stick.  Then  I  saw  that  it  was  the  big  foun 
dry-man  who  has  lately  come  to  Mrs.  Buckle's  to 
board.  He  surveyed  me  through  his  blue  glasses 
for  a  minute,  then  said  suddenly :  "  I  've  been 
wondering  whether  I  made  a  stupid  blunder  in 
interfering  with  your  —  your  love-making  the 
other  night.  I  was  just  coming  home  from  work, 
and  I  fancied  the  fellow  was  annoying  you ;  but 
perhaps  that  is  where  I  was  mistaken." 

His  voice  is  an  unusual  one  for  a  working-man, 
deep  and  musical,  yet  not  loud.  I  wonder  if  that  is 


140  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

the  result  of  days  passed  amid  the  clang  of  iron 
and  steel.  One  would  not  naturally  suppose  so. 
I  said  primly  that  I  was  much  obliged  to  him  for 
interfering.  Then  I  grew  uncomfortably  warm 
as  I  remembered  that  I  was  actually  discussing 
my  one  love  affair  with  a  strange  man. 

"Joey  Larkins  is  a  very  nice  person,"  I  added 
defiantly. 

"Then  you  do  think  I  was  impertinent?"  said 
Mr.  Brown,  gravely. 

"I  —  I  don't  think  anything  about  you,"  I  said, 
thoroughly  vexed  with  myself  and  him.  "  Why 
should  I?" 

"  Why,  indeed  ? "  echoed  the  foundry-man, 
pleasantly.  He  seemed  very  much  amused  at  my 
display  of  temper.  I  could  see  his  eyes  twinkling 
behind  his  ugly  blue  glasses.  "  The  young  woman 
with  all  those  rattling  chains  about  her  neck,  Miss 
—  ah,  well,  —  never  mind  her  name  —  told  me 
something  very  interesting  about  you  the  other 
day." 

"  What  did  she  tell  you  ? "  I  asked  absent- 
mindedly.  I  was  wondering  how  soon  I  could 
escape  from  this  big,  impertinent  workman. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  141 

"  She  told  me  that  you  write  down  in  a  book 
what  you  think  about  people.  Please  tell  me  why 
you  thought  of  doing  such  a  thing.  And  when 
did  you  begin  it  ?  I  am  doing  something  of  the 
sort  myself,  and  I  find  it  very  interesting." 

"You  do!"  I  exclaimed.  "And  what  do  you 
say  about  people  ?  " 

He  smiled.  "  If  you  will  answer  my  question, 
I  will  answer  yours." 

"  I  used  to  like  to  write  things  when  I  was  in 
school,"  I  answered  truthfully  enough.  "  After 
I  got  out  of  school  I  kept  on.  It  amuses  me." 

"That's  exactly  the  case  with  me,"  he  said 
coolly.  "Odd,  isn't  it?" 

I  was  thinking  it  very  singular,  indeed.  Are  all 
foundry-men  like  "  Willyum  "  Brown,  I  wonder  ? 
Of  course  our  public  schools  turn  out  a  very 
remarkable  class  of  working  people ;  but  I  never 
realized  this  so  fully  before.  I  wish  I  had  gone 
to  the  public  school.  It  struck  me  that  this  was 
really  an  excellent  opportunity  to  improve  my 
knowledge  of  the  laboring  classes.  Perhaps  the 
foundry-man  was  thinking  the  same  thing  —  I 
dare  say  he  reads  the  papers  —  for  when  I  looked 


142  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

up  with  a  question  of  more  or  less  inanity  on  the 
tip  of  my  tongue,  I  found  him  gazing  at  me 
speculatively.  I  can't  imagine  why  I  should  have 
laughed  aloud  at  this ;  but  I  did,  and  after  a  pause 
Willyum  Brown  joined  in.  Very  few  men  laugh 
well.  But  the  foundry-man  neither  chuckled  nor 
howled.  He  laughed,  pleasantly  and  sponta 
neously.  Then  we  both  looked  away,  feeling 
rather  foolish  —  at  least  I  did.  "  I  must  be 
going,"  I  said  hastily. 

"No,  don't,"  said  the  foundry-man;  "it's  rain 
ing  harder  than  ever.  Besides,  I  want  to  know 
what  you  are  going  to  put  down  in  your  book 
about  me." 

"  I  shall  put  down  nothing  about  you,"  I  said 
untruthfully. 

At  that  moment  a  brougham  rolled  slowly 
down  the  street.  I  recognized  the  portly  figure 
within  as  my  ontological  friend,  Mrs.  Van 
Deuser.  She  would  scarcely  have  distinguished 
one  of  the  submerged  atoms  of  the  masses,  I 
know.  Yet  I  drew  back  a  little  farther  into  the 
shadow. 

The  foundry-man  glanced  at   the  vehicle  with 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  143 

a  frown.  "Why  should  that  woman  ride  in  her 
carriage,"  he  demanded  roughly,  "while  you  and 
I  walk?" 

"  Because  she  has  a  carriage  to  ride  in,  I  sup 
pose,"  I  answered.  "  I  'm  sure  I  don't  want  to 
ride  in  her  carriage,  do  you  ? " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  he  said  positively.  "  But  here 
are  you,  a  young,  delicate  girl,  obliged  to  spend 
your  life  toiling  in  a  kitchen,  while  the  woman 
yonder  probably  does  nothing  at  all.  There  's  no 
justice  in  that." 

"  I  'm  neither  young  nor  delicate,"  I  said 
shortly  ;  "  and  it  must  be  the  most  tiresome  thing 
in  the  world  to  do  nothing  in  particular." 

"  That  's  true  enough,"  he  answered  argu- 
mentatively.  "  But  did  you  never  think  how 
unequal  things  are  in  this  world  ?  And  does  it 
never  occur  to  you  to  question  your  place  in 
it  ?  Do  you,  for  example,  like  being  a  kitchen 
girl?" 

I  smothered  a  laugh  behind  my  handkerchief. 
"  I  like  it,  I  dare  say,  quite  as  well  as  you  like 
being  a  foundry-man." 

He    seemed    somewhat    taken    aback    by    my 


144  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

reply,  for  he  frowned  and  pulled  savagely  at  his 
beard.  Finally  he  shook  his  head. 

"  But  I  don't  like  being  a  foundry-man,"  he 
said  decidedly.  "  The  work  's  terribly  hard  and 
the  pay  small.  The  man  who  reaps  the  chief 
profits  of  the  concern  seldom  comes  near  it.  I 
have  seen  him  once  in  a  month's  time,  cool, 
smiling,  and  well  dressed.  I  am  no  more  to  him 
than  a  greasy  cog  in  the  machinery.  Do  you 
call  that  just?" 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  "The  cog  has  to 
be  there,  has  n't  it  ?  And  why  not  you  as  well 
as  another  ? " 

"  Because  I  am  a  man  and  not  a  cog,"  he  said, 
breathing  deep. 

Then  with  a  slight  gesture  of  farewell  he  strode 
out  into  the  rain  and  walked  away. 

Now  I  consider  all  this  extremely  interesting. 
I  suppose  the  foundry-man  represents  his  class 
very  fairly.  But  he  is  a  foundry-man  because  he 
ought  to  be  one.  He  could  n't  possibly  be  any 
thing  else  if  he  tried.  Every  man  must  gravitate 
to  his  own  place  as  surely  as  the  planets  swing 
about  the  sun.  Of  this  much  I  am  convinced. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  145 

Willyum  Brown  has  n't  so  much  as  looked  at 
me  for  two  days  until  to-night,  and  then  he  was 
obliged  to  do  so.  If  I  was  as  unprincipled  as 
Stella  Kimbark,  I  could  have  satisfied  my  curi 
osity  to  a  degree  this  morning,  for  the  big 
foundry-man  dropped  a  brown-covered  note-book 
from  his  pocket.  I  found  it  on  the  floor  when  I 
tidied  up  the  dining-room.  It  was  filled  with 
close,  crabbedly-written  pages,  this  much  I  saw. 
Of  course  I  did  n't  read  any  of  it.  When  I  re 
turned  it,  I  was  sorry  for  a  minute  that  I  had 
not,  for  he  pocketed  it  with  a  brief  "  Thank  you," 
and  fell  to  eating  his  supper  with  his  usual 
appetite. 

There  was  no  one  else  in  the  room,  for  he  was 
late.  Presently  he  said  coolly,  "  What  did  you 
think  about  it  ? " 

"Think  about  what?"  I  asked. 

He  tapped  his  pocket.  "  I  knew  you  would 
find  it." 

"  Did  you  expect  me  to  read  it  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly  —  after  our  conversation  the 
other  day." 

"  I  did  n't  read  it,"   I  said  decidedly. 


146  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  was  too  busy,  for  one  thing.  For  another, 
I  did  n't  care  to." 

He  pulled  off  his  blue  spectacles  absent-mind 
edly.  "I  'm  glad  you  did  not,  on  the  whole,"  he 
said,  eying  me  thoughtfully.  "  Women  seldom 
think  much  as  a  rule,  and  it  is  probably  quite  as 
well  that  they  do  not,  especially  — " 

I  waited  patiently  to  hear  the  conclusion  of 
this  well-worn  masculine  opinion,  but  it  was  not 
forthcoming.  "  Did  you  suppose,"  I  asked 
pleasantly,  "that  anything  you  have  written  in 
that  book  could  possibly  make  me  think  ? " 

"You  are  laughing  at  me,"  he  said,  with  an 
air  of  surprise.  "  You  are  thinking  that  I  must 
be  too  stupid  to  write  a  note-book  because  I  am 
a  foundry-man." 

"And  you,"  I  retorted  coolly,  "are  thinking 
that,  because  I  am  a  kitchen-maid,  I  cannot 
properly  appreciate  your  extreme  cleverness." 

"You  are—  "  he  observed  after  a  long  pause  — 
"a  very  odd  sort  of  a  person.     Will  you  kindly 
give  me  a  glass  of  water?" 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  queer  that  Mr.  Brown 


The  Singtilar  Miss  Smith  147 

reads  so  many  books  ? "  I  asked  Mrs.  Buckle,  in 
the  murky  privacy  of  the  kitchen. 

"Land,  no!"  she  answered.  "A  single  man 
like  'im  is  bound  to  take  to  somethin'.  Some 
takes  to  drink  an'  some  takes  to  books,  as  you 
may  say.  I  'ad  one  young  man  as  took  to  photo- 
graphin',  an'  that 's  worse  'an  either  as  fur  as 
money  goes.  'E  could  n't  pay  'is  board  after 
a  while,  'e  could  n't,  an'  I  'ad  to  fire  'im." 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  foundry-man  informed  me  to-day  that  he 
had  two  tickets  for  a  concert  in  a  mechanics' 
course,  and  invited  me  to  go  with  him.  Singu 
larly  enough,  Miss  Kimbark's  giggle  in  the  pas 
sage  decided  me. 

"  I  will  go,"  I  said  promptly,  then  swallowed 
difficult  misgivings  as  to  the  propriety  of  my  course 
all  day. 

"  I  wanted  to  talk  with  you,  and  there  is  no 
chance  at  Mrs.  Buckle's,"  began  Mr.  Brown,  with 
simplicity,  as  we  walked  away  down  the  street. 

He  was  looking  the   pink  of  working-man   re 
spectability  ;  and  I  dare  say  I,  in  my  well-worn 
ready-made  suit,  was  a  sufficiently  genteel-looking 
workwoman. 

"  I  'm  not  a  Joey  Larkins,"  he  added  quickly, 
with  an  amused  smile. 

I  must  have  betrayed  my  real  apprehensions  in 
148 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  149 

some  way,  and  his  remark  provoked  me  to  re 
ply  untruthfully,  "  I  was  n't  thinking  of  such  a 
thing." 

"I  should  like,"  he  went  on  rapidly,  "to  really 
know  you,  —  not  in  the  way  a  workman  like  my 
self  is  apt  to  know  a  woman.  You  seem  to  me 
quite  unlike  the  girls  I  have  met  before ;  and  why 
should  we  not  be  friendly  enough  to  talk  over 
some  of  the  things  in  which  we  are  both  in 
terested  —  like  two  men,  say  ?  I  don't  intend 
to  marry,"  he  finished  abruptly. 

I  was  furiously  angry  for  the  moment,  though 
I  am  sure  I  can't  think  why,  now  that  I  've  had 
time  to  consider.  "You  take  too  much  for 
granted,"  I  said  coldly. 

"What  do  I  take  for  granted  that  I  ought 
not?"  he  demanded.  "Is  it  too  much  for  me  to 
have  judged  you  a  woman  who  can  talk  upon 
social  questions  with  a  man  without  any  nonsense 
about  love  and  marriage  ?  I  tell  you  these  ques 
tions  must  be  talked  over  between  men,  and 
women  too,  who  have  cool  heads  and  keen  eyes. 
You  have  both.  I  know  it." 

"  Well,  and  what  of  it  ? "  I  asked.    "  Suppose,  for 


150  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

the  sake  of  argument,  that  I  have  acquired  the 
most  valuable  collection  of  views  on  all  sorts  of 
questions,  what  good  would  it  do  the  world  for 
me  to  discuss  them  with  you  ? " 

"  You  don't  understand,"  he  said  eagerly. 
"  You  are  capable  of  seeing  and  thinking  as  few 
women  of  our  class  are,  and  it 's  of  the  greatest 
importance  that  you  think  and  see  right." 

"That  may  be,"  I  said,  "but  I  don't  see  how 
you  are  going  to  direct  my  thoughts.  And  how 
can  you  be  sure  that  you  are  right,  anyway  ?  " 

"  I  am  right,"  he  said  doggedly.  "  I  must  be 
right,  and  I  will  prove  it.  But  I  don't  want  to 
direct  your  thoughts,  girl  —  heavens,  no!  I  want 
to  see  them  just  as  they  are." 

"  It  must  be  pleasant  to  be  so  sure  of  what  you 
want,"  I  said.  "  I  wish  I  could  be." 

"  You  've  got  to  be  sure  of  what  you  want  or 
you  '11  never  get  anything,"  he  said  positively. 
After  a  pause  he  blurted  out :  "  Tell  me  about 
yourself,  will  you,  Anne  ?  Begin  at  the  begin 
ning.  I  want  to  know  why  you  're  where  you  are 
in  the  world.  I  should  have  expected  to  find  you 
somewhere  else." 


'HE    I'ULLED   OFF   HIS   GLASSES   AND   STAKED    AT    ME." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  151 

"If  I  had  been  somewhere  else,"  I  replied, 
"you  would  not  have  found  me." 

He  pulled  off  his  glasses  and  stared  at  me. 
"That's  true,"  he  said;  "but  go  on." 

"  With  what  ?  " 

"  With  your  history,  of  course.  How  did  you, 
an  educated  girl,  come  to  be  working  in  a  fifth- 
rate  boarding-house  kitchen  ? " 

"Who  said  I  was  educated?  I  wash  my  dishes 
clean,  and  I  do  not  always  murder  the  English 
language.  I  went  to  school  once  and  learned  a 
number  of  things,  and  I  've  since  forgotten  every 
one  of  them.  Do  you  call  that  being  educated  ?  " 

"Decidedly  —  as  I  understand  education.  So 
few  do  wash  their  dishes  clean,  you  know.  And 
most  people  only  remember  to  be  stupid."  He 
had  forgotten  to  put  on  the  blue  glasses  again, 
and  his  gray  eyes  beamed  upon  me  humorously. 
"  You  went  to  school.  Very  good,"  he  went 
on,  with  a  touch  of  impatience.  "  What  then  ? 
Did  you  at  once  go  out  to  service?" 

"Not  immediately,"  I  replied,  conscious  of  en 
joying  the  situation  with  an  absurd  relish.  "  I 
tried  being  a  lady." 


152  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  Ah ! "  he  exclaimed  with  strong  disapproval. 
"  You  were  idle ;  I  should  n't  have  thought  it  of 
you." 

"  I  was  idle,"  I  said ;  "  I  did  n't  earn  my  salt 
for  five  years." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No  one  has  a  right  to 
be  idle." 

"How  about  people  who  are  born  rich  ? "  I 
asked  enviously.  "They  never  work,  and  they 
have  everything." 

He  scowled.  "  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to 
escape  the  law  of  give  and  take,"  he  said ;  "  and 
because  the  so-called  rich  try  to  do  it,  the  world  's 
in  confusion." 

"  You  hate  rich  people,  don't  you  ? "  I  asked 
ingenuously. 

"  No,"  he  said  gravely ;  "  but  I  am  sorry  for  them. 
As  a  class  they  are  as  completely  cut  off  from 
all  that  makes  life  worth  living  as  the  very  poor." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ? "  I  asked.  "  Rich 
people  are  just  like  everybody  else,  only  they 
can  do  exactly  as  they  choose,  which  the  poor 
can't.  It  is  splendid  to  be  rich  —  if  one  gets  rich 
out  of  one's  self." 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  153 

"  What  made  you  say  '  if  one  gets  rich  out  of 
himself?"  he  asked.  "That's  a  deep  saying. 
I  am  wondering  if  you  understand  what  you  have 
said." 

"  I  lived  with  a  rich  lady  once,"  I  said  slowly. 
"  She  was  n't  happy.     Her  father  had  left  her  a 
huge  fortune.      I    used   to  wonder   about   her  — 
sometimes." 

"  The  man  was  a  fool  to  leave  her  the  money," 
he  said  tersely.  "  A  well-intentioned  fool  —  but 
not  the  less  fool  for  that.  One  cannot  inherit 
money.  Money  is  the  outgrowth  of  self,  like  the 
shell  of  a  sea  creature.  The  woman  you  speak 
of  could  n't  inhabit  her  father's  cast-off  shell.  It 
did  n't  fit.  It  hurt." 

"  I  guess  that  was  it,"  I  murmured  indis 
tinctly.  "But  what  could  she  do?" 

"  A  certain  carpenter  of  Galilee  once  solved 
a  similar  question,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  But 
the  young  man  in  the  case  could  n't  see  the  truth 
of  the  solution.  He  did  n't  want  to  exchange 
his  misfit  shell  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

I  've  written  all  this  down  just  as  I  remember 
it.  And  now  I  've  read  it  over,  I  am  more  aston- 


154  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

ished  than  ever,  though  I  don't  see  why  I  should 
be.  Perhaps  all  working-men  are  like  W,  B. 
I  never  really  knew  one  before;  but  I  supposed 
they  were  ignorant,  silent,  animal-like  creatures, 
more  interested  in  having  a  full  dinner-pail  than 
in  anything  else.  For  that  matter  W.  B.  has  a 
good  appetite. 

I  must  grow  my  own  shell.     I  must — I  must! 

W.  B.  has  been  away  for  three  days.  He 
came  back  this  morning  and  did  n't  even  glance 
at  me  when  I  handed  him  his  coffee.  He  was 
late  again  for  supper.  I  brought  in  the  hot 
dishes  in  silence.  He  pulled  off  his  glasses  (why 
on  earth  does  he  wear  them  ?)  and  looked  at  me 
thoughtfully.  "You  are  tired,  Anne,"  he  said 
kindly. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  and  felt  of  a  sudden  a  wave 
of  self-pity  which  brought  an  aching  ball  to  my 
throat.  I  was  actually  afraid  for  a  moment 
that  I  might  cry.  I  pulled  myself  together 
immediately;  I  loathe  that  poor-little-Anne-how- 
you-have-been-abused  feeling. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  155 

"  Sit  down,  and  talk  to  me  while  I  eat  my 
supper,  Anne,"  he  went  on,  in  a  matter-of-fact 
tone.  "  I  've  something  to  tell  you." 

I  hesitated ;  after  all,  I  thought,  I  am  only  a 
kitchen-maid  and  he  is  a  foundry-man.  There 
can  be  no  actual  impropriety  in  a  foundry-man 
talking  to  a  kitchen-maid. 

"  I  'm  tired,  too,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause. 
"  This  is  a  hard  world,  Anne." 

"You  had  something  to  tell  me,"  I  muttered 
indistinctly.  I  really  wanted  to  cry  dreadfully. 
He  has  a  beautiful  voice,  and  it  touched  some 
string  in  me  which  vibrated  intolerably. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  feeling  absent-mindedly  in  his 
waistcoat  pocket ;  "  it  was  an  address.  Here 
it  is.  If  you  will  go  to  this  house,  Anne,  I 
think  you  will  find  a  way  to  better  things.  A 
woman  lives  there  who  will  appreciate  such  a 
servant  as  you  might  become  with  training." 

My  face  crimsoned  angrily.  "  Thank  you,"  I 
said  icily.  "  I  can  suit  myself  with  a  place." 

He  set  down  his  cup  hastily.  "  Why  are  you 
angry  with  me,  Anne  ? "  he  inquired  in  a  tone 
of  mild  surprise.  "  Surely  not  because  I  called 


156  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

you  a  servant?  That  is  the  noblest  name  in  all 
the  world's  vocabulary." 

"It  wasn't  that,"  I  mumbled.  "It  was  —  oh, 
I  don't  know  what  it  was ! " 

It 's  horrible ;  but  I  did  cry.  Regularly  boo- 
hooed,  as  I  have  n't  since  I  was  a  baby. 

William  Brown  jumped  up  and  overturned  his 
chair.  "  For  heaven's  sake,  child,"  he  cried, 
"  what  have  I  said  —  or  done  ?  You  must  tell 
me!" 

But  I  bolted  into  the  kitchen,  and  thence  by 
way  of  the  back  stairs  to  my  own  room,  where 
I  Ve  cried  deliciously,  and  to  my  heart's  content, 
for  a  whole  hour.  I  feel  made  over,  some  way. 

I  have  n't  the  slightest  idea  why  I  cried. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

I  HAD  scarcely  written  the  last  words  when 
Mrs.  Buckle  knocked  at  the  door.  She  had  an 
open  telegram  in  her  hand,  and  a  firm  deter 
mination  to  know  its  meaning  in  her  eye. 

"  I  opened  it  first  off,"  she  announced.  "  Thinks 
I,  if  it 's  a  death,  I  'd  ought  to  know  it  so  's  to 
break  it  to  'er  easy.  It  ain't  a  death  'xactly,  I 
guess ;  but  you  can't  allers  tell." 

I  snatched  the  bit  of  yellow  paper  and  read: 
"  Please  come  home.  I  am  not  well.  M.  Nu 
gent." 

"  Land,  ef  I  wa'  n't  struck  all  of  a  'eap,"  ob 
served  Mrs.  Buckle,  seating  herself  comfortably 
on  the  edge  of  my  bed.  "To  think  of  your  bein' 
called  away  noiv  —  fer  I  see  you  're  a-goin'." 

I  was  mechanically  thrusting  my   meagre   be 
longings  into  my  trunk. 

"  An'  whativer  '11  I  tell  Willyum  Brown  to 
morrow  ? "  Mrs.  Buckle  continued,  with  a  plain 
tive  intonation,  "  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know." 


158  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  called  a  cab  and  went  directly  home,  my 
conscience  belaboring  me  violently  all  the  way. 
Poor,  dear  Aunt  Nugent,  how  I  had  neglected 
her,  and  abused  her  kindness !  "  Not  well,"  the 
telegram  said.  She  was  doubtless  dying,  while 
I  amused  myself  with  foundry-men.  How  could 
I  be  so  unspeakably  cruel  and  foolish  ?  By 
the  time  I  had  reached  Beacon  Street  I  had 
worked  myself  into  so  fine  a  frenzy  of  emotion 
that  I  dashed  upstairs  like  an  affectionate  whirl 
wind. 

I  met  Lizzie  in  the  corridor.  "  How  is  Aunt 
Nugent  ?  "  I  begged  in  an  excited  whisper. 

"  She  's  as  usual,  thank  you,  Miss  Anne,"  Lizzie 
answered,  with  a  cool  perfection  of  demeanor 
which  made  me  feel  crude  and  awkward.  "  Will 
you  dress  before  seeing  her,  miss  ? "  Her  quiet, 
observant  eyes  conveyed  volumes  of  intelligence 
and  reproof. 

"  Yes,  Lizzie,"  I  said  meekly. 

Aunt  Nugent  was  propped  up  with  cushions, 
reading  Dr.  Pilkington's  "  Evening  Reflections," 
when  I  crept  into  her  room  half  an  hour  later. 
She  wore  a  robe  of  lavender  silk  lavishly  deco- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  159 

rated  with  lace ;  the  pink  light  from  her  shaded 
lamp  fell  upon  the  soft,  puffy  curves  of  her  face 
and  her  white,  heavily-ringed  hands.  There  was 
a  faint  aroma  of  Florida  water  in  the  room. 
"  Oh,  Anne,"  she  exclaimed,  looking  at  me 
queerly,  "it  is  you." 

"  Yes,  aunt,"  I  said  humbly ;  "  I  Ve  come 
back." 

She  moved  uneasily  among  her  pillows,  all  the 
time  staring  at  me  in  that  strange,  half-frightened 
way. 

"You — you  are  looking  well,"  she  said  at 
length. 

I  shrugged  impatiently.  "  I  'm  always  well,"  I 
said.  "  But  you  —  The  telegram  said  you  were 
not  well.  Have  you  been  ill?" 

At  this  Aunt  Nugent  began  to  sob  weakly. 
"  Oh,  Anne,"  she  sniffed,  "  I  wonder  I  am  not 
laid  away  —  I  do,  indeed,  with  what  heart-rending 
anxiety  and  cook's  insisting  on  too  much  salt  in 
my  chicken  broth.  You  know  I  never  could  bear 
much  salt ;  it 's  so  irritating  to  the  mucous  mem 
branes.  But  Mary  will  season  to  suit  her  own 
taste  —  and  when  Mrs.  Van  Deuser  called  on 


160  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

Thursday  morning,  and  Lizzie,  too,  and  told  me 
everything.  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  child,  what  could  I 
do?" 

"  Mrs.  Van  Deuser !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  What 
could  she  possibly  tell  you  ?  And  Lizzie  — •  I 
must  ask  you  to  explain  yourself,  aunt !  " 

"  How  can  I  ? "  moaned  Aunt  Nugent.  "  But  I 
must  nerve  myself  and  have  it  over  with."  Her 
hands  trembled  so  excessively  that  I  was  really 
alarmed,  and  approached  with  the  camphor  bottle. 
"  She  saw  you  at  that  concert"  went  on  Aunt 
Nugent,  waving  the  bottle  aside.  "  They  both 
saw  you,  and  told  me." 

"Well?"  I  said  stupidly. 

"  With  a  man —  a  coarse,  common-looking  work 
ing-man  ;  Mrs.  Van  Deuser  said  she  noticed  him 
particularly.  She  is  a  patroness,  you  know,  of 
the  lecture  course  for  working  people." 

"  He  is  not  common-looking,"  I  said  hastily, 
"  nor  coarse,  and  I  don't  care  what  Mrs.  Van 
Deuser  says.  She  is  a  meddlesome  old  cat." 

"  Then  it  is  true,"  wailed  Aunt  Nugent,  wring 
ing  her  hands.  "  And  all  the  while  I  thought 
you  were  visiting  in  the  most  select  circles  in 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  161 

New  York.  Oh,  Anne,  Anne,  I  did  so  hope  it 
was  all  a  mistake  —  though  Lizzie  was  sure  it 
was  you.  She  was  there  with  her  young  man 
—  a  very  respectable  person  in  the  plumbing 
line,  and  sat  directly  behind  you.  She  said  she 
had  done  your  back  hair  too  many  times  to  be 
mistaken  in  it." 

I  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  Aunt  Nugent,"  I 
said,  "  I  would  like  you  to  remember  that  I  am 
my  own  mistress,  to  begin  with.  And  to  end 
with,  I  beg  to  remind  you  that  I  know  what  is 
proper  quite  as  well  as  you  do.  I  will  tell  you 
all  about  what  I  have  been  doing  to-morrow.  But 
I  '11  tell  you  now  that  it 's  nothing  I  'm  ashamed 
of,  and  there 's  nothing  wrong  about  it,  though 
you  may  think  so." 

"  I  hope  so,  I  'm  sure.  Oh,  my  dear,  my 
dear !  "  mumbled  Aunt  Nugent,  with  another  of 
her  strange  glances. 

Just  what  this  meant,  I  discovered  this  morn 
ing  when  my  three  lawyers  called  upon  me  in 
state.  They  were  excessively  embarrassed,  but 
determined,  and  I  made  a  clean  breast  of  the 
whole  affair,  when  I  saw  I  must. 

M 


1 62  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  I  regret  all  this  seeming  impertinence  of  ours, 
as  you  doubtless  regard  it,  my  dear  Miss  Smith," 
said  Mr.  Taunton,  the  oldest  and  stateliest  of  the 
three,  after  I  had  done.  "  But  when  Mrs.  Van 
Deuser  —  a  friend  of  your  aunt's,  I  believe,  and 
a  mutual  acquaintance  —  came  to  me  and  told 
me  quite  fully,  on  your  aunt's  behalf,  just  what 
she  had  seen,  we  felt  bound  to  make  some  in 
quiries  into  the  matter,  you  know.  Mrs.  Nugent 
actually  suspected  that  you  might  be  —  well  — 
to  —  ah  —  put  it  briefly  —  she  really  feared  that 
you  might  have  become  non  compos  mentis. 
Very  absurd  it  all  seems  in  view  of  your  really 
laudable  ambition  to  reach  the  working  classes. 
But  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  my  dear 
young  lady,  I  should  recommend  another  sort  of 
investigation  of  sociological  problems.  It 's  a 
favorite  study  of  my  own,  by  the  way,  and  I 
can  put  you  on  to  the  track  of  all  the  authori 
ties." 

They  tried  to  be  very  jocose  and  complimen 
tary,  and  bowed  themselves  out  with  all  sorts  of 
apologies. 

After  they  went  I  shut  myself  up  in  my  room 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  163 

and  simply  raged — till  I  grew  frightened  at  my 
self.  Then  I  went  out  and  walked  miles.  When 
I  came  back,  I  went  straight  to  Aunt  Nugent's 
room.  "  Aunt  Nugent,"  I  said,  "  I  want  to  tell 
you  that  I  'm  sorry  I  frightened  you  so.  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  did  n't  think  anything  about  you. 
I  mean  to  think  about  you  more  after  this,  and 
take  better  care  of  you."  Then  I  kissed  her  — 
for  the  first  time  in  years  —  and  let  her  cry  over 
me  as  long  as  I  could  bear  it. 

I  still  had  Lizzie  to  reckon  with,  "  Lizzie," 
I  said  abruptly,  when  she  was  doing  my  hair 
at  bedtime,  "what  did  you  think  when  you  saw 
me  at  the  Mechanics'  Concert  ? " 

"  I  was  that  surprised,  miss,  to  think  as  'ow 
you  were  in  town,  an'  we  did  n't  know  it.  An' 
that 's  ivery  word  I  said  to  Mrs.  Nugent,  miss ; 
she  '11  have  told  you."  I  felt  the  girl's  hand 
tremble  against  my  hair. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  how  it  felt  to  be  a  servant, 
Lizzie.  I  wanted  to  find  out  just  what  it  was 
like  to  be  poor." 

"  It  ain't  all  bad,  miss,"  half  whispered  the 
girl ;  "I  wanted  to  tell  you  as  'ow  I  've  been 


164  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

thinkin'    of     bein'    married     come     Christmas  — 
though  I  can't  bear  to  leave  you,  miss." 

"Yes,  you  can,  Lizzie,"  I  said,  with  a  smile 
and  a  sigh.  Somehow  I  understand  just  how 
the  girl  feels,  and  I  'm  glad  I  do. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  shell  does  n't  fit.  It  hurts.  But  what  am 
I  going  to  do  about  it  ?  Four  days  of  the 
old  life,  and  I  am  running  on  my  wheel  with 
all  the  desperate  energy  of  a  caged  squirrel. 
/  want  something.  And  I  don't  know  what  it  is. 
The  foundry-man  said,  "You  must  be  sure  of 
what  you  want,  or  you  '11  never  get  anything." 
I  Ve  always  been  an  aching  void  of  want,  and 
I  never  knew  what  I  wanted.  I  don't  now. 

To-day  I  read  over  the  story  of  Christ  and 
the  rich  young  man.  He  said,  "  Go  sell  what 
thou  hast  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt 
have  treasure  in  heaven."  The  foundry-man 
thinks  that  is  the  solution,  I  am  sure.  I  wish  I 
had  asked  him  if  he  thought  one  really  ought 
to  do  it.  I  never  heard  of  any  one  who  did. 
I  have  given  lots  of  money  away.  I  am  giving 
so  much  now  that  Aunt  Nugent  says  we  shall 
be  ruined.  I  'm  not  one  bit  happier,  though.  I 

165 


1 66  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

wonder  what  would  happen  if  I  should  really 
sell  everything  and  give  the  money  to  the  poor. 
I  would  "find  treasure  in  heaven,"  I  suppose. 
But  somehow  or  other  I  don't  want  that  —  yet. 
And  —  who  are  the  poor  ? 

Mrs.  Van  Deuser  came  to  see  me  this  morning. 
"  Do  you  know,  my  dear,  I  really  admire  you 
more  than  I  can  say  for  what  you  have  done," 
she  said  impressively.  "  But  I  fear  the  working 
classes  are  hardly  able  to  appreciate  the  magni 
tude  of  such  a  sacrifice  as  you  have  made." 

"I  did  it  for  fun,"  I  said  bluntly. 

"  Noble,  noble  girl,"  murmured  Mrs.  Van 
Deuser.  "  Do  you  know,  my  child,  that  people 
are  just  beginning  to  find  out  how  wonderfully 
clever  and  interesting  you  are  ?  So  different  from 
the  ordinary  girl.  You  will  see  !  "  She  said  this 
with  a  sort  of  massive  archness. 

I  have  had  an  astonishing  number  of  invi 
tations  this  week,  and  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  accept  every  one  of  them,  if  for  noth 
ing  more  than  to  show  people  that  I  am  not 
crazy. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  167 

I  am  a  society  success  at  last !  It  began  in 
the  queerest  way.  My  first  function  was  a 
dinner-dance,  and  it  occurred  to  me  how  funny 
it  would  be  if,  instead  of  the  people  who  were 
there,  I  should  see  the  "  folks  at  Buckleses."  Then 
I  perceived  that  there  were,  in  fact,  a  number 
of  strong  resemblances. 

That  tall,  showy  Miss  Braisted,  who 's  been 
making  such  a  sensation  this  winter,  is  enough 
like  Stella  Kimbark  to  be  a  near  relation.  Her 
supercilious  mien,  her  black,  soulless  eyes,  her 
metallic  laugh,  and  even  the  clashing,  glittering 
adornments  of  her  person  were  all  perfectly  rec 
ognizable.  Next  to  her  sat  Joey  Larkins,  dis 
guised  as  a  Harvard  athlete.  It  required  no 
stretch  of  the  imagination  to  see  a  likeness  to 
good  Mrs.  Buckle  in  our  elegant  hostess,  with 
her  shrewd,  anxious  eyes  and  her  humorously 
ill-natured  speeches. 

Just  for  the  fun  of  it,  I  began  to  talk  to  the 
person  next  me  —  a  dull,  washed-out-looking  man, 
who  strongly  resembles  a  certain  boiler-maker 
I  had  seen  at  Buckle's  —  just  as  if  he  was 
the  boiler-maker,  and  not  a  dilettante  scientist 


1 68  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

with  too  much  money  to  amount  to  anything. 
He  was  charmed.  So  was  the  attenuated  little 
milliner's  apprentice  who  sat  opposite,  and  so, 
after  a  little,  was  the  butcher's  assistant  who  sat 
next  the  milliner's  apprentice.  I  found  the  ex 
periment  really  amusing.  And  when  in  the  ball 
room  after  dinner  I  was  introduced  to  Mrs. 
Lehn's  veritable  double,  and  danced  twice  with 
a  very  lively  and  entertaining  steam-fitter,  I  was 
quite  filled  with  the  joys  of  my  discovery. 

I  looked  carefully  for  the  foundry-man,  but  I 
did  n't  see  him. 

This  sort  of  thing  has  gone  on  for  several 
weeks.  I  make  new  finds  every  day,  and  the 
crowning  joke  of  it  all  is  that  I  'm  now  "a  social 
favorite  "  ! 

Last  week  the  boiler-maker  actually  proposed, 
and  the  butcher's  assistant  is  openly  infatuated. 
The  latter  gentleman  poses  as  a  banker,  and 
bears  an  illuminated  old  Boston  name,  but  for 
all  that  he  is  precisely  like  the  butcher's  assist 
ant  who  boarded  at  Buckle's,  in  every  discov 
erable  particular  except  his  clothes  and  his 
accent. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  169 

The  actual  solidarity  of  the  human  race  never 
really  dawned  on  my  horizon  before.  If  clothes 
and  accent  are  the  only  apparent  effects  of 
modern  education,  real  differences  of  character 
must  be  the  result  of  ages  of  living  —  some 
where.  All  this  time  I  have  n't  seen  anybody  who 
resembles  the  foundry-man  in  the  least  particular. 

I  saw  him  to-day.  I  was  in  the  carriage,  and 
Winston  somehow  got  into  a  snarl  of  carts  and 
busses  on  Tremont  Street.  He  finally  drew  up 
near  the  curb  to  wait  a  bit.  I  leaned  forward 
idly  and  saw — W.  B.  He  was  helping  a  poor 
woman  with  a  bundle  to  cross  the  street.  In 
an  instant  the  crowd  had  swallowed  him.  He 
did  n't  see  me. 

The  butcher's  assistant  was  waiting  in  the  recep 
tion  room  when  I  returned.  "  I  really  could  n't 
go  away  without  seeing  you,  Miss  Smith,"  he 
began  in  his  unpleasant,  toneless  voice.  I  saw 
what  was  coming,  and  scowled  in  a  way  which 
ought  to  have  intimidated  him.  But  he  went  on 
and  asked  me  to  marry  him  in  precisely  the 
terms  one  would  expect  from  such  a  man. 


170  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

After  I  had  refused  him  point-blank  and  in  a 
variety  of  other  ways,  he  smiled  and  advised  me 
not  to  decide  the  matter  hastily.  I  saw  that  he 
was  considering  the  correlative  facts  that  I  am 
twenty-seven  years  old  and  that  he  is  the  "  great 
catch "  of  many  seasons.  His  little  eyes  glis 
tened  pleasantly.  "  I  fancy  I  have  been  too  sud 
den  —  too  —  er  —  precipitate,  you  know,"  he 
murmured  ;  "  I  will  wait  a  month  for  my  final 
answer." 

"  My  answer  will  be  precisely  the  same  at 
the  end  of  one  month  or  twenty,"  I  said.  He 
only  pressed  my  hand,  stared  beadily,  and  took 
his  leave'. 

It  was  a  horrid  day,  cold,  drizzling,  and  alto 
gether  nasty.  It  reminded  me  absurdly  enough 
of  the  day  I  talked  with  the  foundry-man  in 
the  church  porch.  And  presently  without  any 
real  idea  of  my  destination  I  found  myself  in 
a  street-car.  After  that  I  walked  a  long  way 
through  dirty,  sloppy  streets,  and  then  — I  waked 
up  to  the  fact  that  all  this  time  I  had  been 
gravitating  toward  Mrs.  Buckle's  as  unerringly 
as  a  bird  flies  south. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  171 

There  was  the  four-story,  red-brick  house,  with 
its  ancient,  fly-blown  legend  "  Boarding,"  and 
its  greenery,  yallery  blinds  tightly  drawn  to 
keep  a  hypothetical  sunbeam  from  an  equally 
hypothetical  carpet.  The  area  door  opened  and 
a  slatternly  girl,  enveloped  in  an  almost  visible 
halo  of  yellow  soap  and  frying  fat,  emerged. 
She  stared  at  me  open-mouthed  for  a  full  min 
ute  ;  then  I  heard  a  familiar  voice  from  within : 
"  Whativer  's  got  a  holt  of  you  now,  'Liza  ? 
You  ain't  got  no  more  sprawl  'an  a  scaling 
sarpint,  an'  that 's  the  gospel  truth.  Come  in 
'ere  this  minnut  an'  do  them  turnits." 

I  walked  quickly  away,  turning  the  nearest  cor 
ner  in  my  haste  to  escape  from  the  place.  How 
could  I  have  stayed  there  even  one  day  ?  I 
felt  hot  and  ashamed  all  over,  and  my  ears 
tingled  as  if  with  a  blow.  I  bent  my  head 
against  the  wind  and  rain,  and  was  hurrying 
blindly  forward  when  the  most  astonishing  thing 
happened,  I  walked  directly  and  with  some 
violence  into  a  man  who  was  approaching  in  the 
same  blind  fashion  from  the  opposite  direction. 
I  looked  up  with  a  mumbled  apology. 


172  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  Oh,  it 's  you  ?  "  I  said  foolishly.  It  was  the 
foundry-man. 

"Anne!"  he  cried  in  his  deep  voice.  "Why 
are  you  here  ?  " 

I  knew  without  a  shadow  of  doubt  why  I  was 
there,  and  I  never  thought  of  lying.  "  I  wanted 
to  see  you,"  I  answered,  in  the  tone  of  a  small 
and  particularly  stupid  child. 

"  Anne !  "  he  murmured  again,  with  one  of  his 
illuminating  smiles.  "  Come,  we  must  n't  stand 
here  in  the  rain,  where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  Calvary  Church  is  right  around  the  corner ; 
we  can  stand  in  the  porch  as  we  did  before,"  I 
said  unblushingly.  I  could  n't  think  of  anything 
but  that  I  had  found  him. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  child  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Are  you  coming  back  to  Mrs.  Buckle's  ? " 
His  eyes  roved  anxiously  over  me.  "  But  no. 
You  must  n't  go  there  again ;  it  is  not  a  fit  place 
for  you."  After  a  pause  he  added  thoughtfully: 
"  I  am  going  away  soon,  so  I  am  glad  to  have 
this  little  good-by  talk.  Did  you  keep  the 
address  I  gave  you,  Anne  ? " 

"  I   have   a   place,   thank    you,"   I   murmured. 


The  Singtdar  Miss  Smith  173 

Then  I  added  hastily :  "  I  only  wanted  to  ask 
you  about  that  rich  young  man.  Do  you  think 
he  ought  to  have  sold  all  his  property  ? " 

"  The  rich  young  man  ? "  he  replied,  frowning 
and  eying  me  suspiciously.  "  What  rich  young 
man  ?  " 

"The  one  in  the  Bible,"  I  explained.  "Don't 
you  think  Christ  meant  that  he  should  give  away 
the  interest  on  his  money,  and  —  and  live  simply 
- 1  mean  give  up  living  like  a  very  rich  man  ? 
I  ought  to  tell  you  I  Ve  gone  back  to  live  with 
the  rich  woman  I  told  you  of,  and  —  and  she  's 
very  much  interested  in  that  chapter.  Sometimes 
I  read  it  to  her  nights.  She  does  give  away  a 
great  deal  of  money,  and  I  don't  think  she  means 
to  be  selfish." 

His  face  had  cleared  and  brightened  wonder 
fully  as  I  went  on  with  my  halting  and  deceitful 
explanation.  I  felt  thoroughly  ashamed  as  his 
attentive  eyes  rested  on  my  face.  "  Do  you 
know,  Anne,"  he  said  warmly,  "  I  am  wonder 
fully  pleased  to  think  you  remembered  our  little 
talk,  and  that  you  are  trying  to  help  on  the 
great  cause  in  the  world.  Your  reward  will  come 


174  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

to  you,  my  child,  never  fear.  But  about  this 
lady  you  speak  of  —  I  wonder  if  it  would  be 
possible  for  me  to  see  her.  Do  you  think  it 
would,  Anne  ?  Is  she  a  prim,  proud,  haughty 
sort  of  person  who  would  —  But  no  —  I  see  that 
it  would  be  impossible.  And  after  all  it  is  not 
my  work." 

He  stopped  short,  and  I  took  advantage  of 
the  silence  to  ask  a  question.  "  What  is  the 
great  cause  ? "  I  demanded.  "  If  I  am  to  help 
it  on,  as  you  say,  I  must  at  least  know  what 
it  is." 

"  The  great  cause,"  he  answered  directly,  "  is 
the  bringing  to  pass  in  the  world  of  universal 
brotherhood.  Not  the  artificial,  tied-on,  make- 
believe  sort  that  our  preachers  prate  about  year 
in  and  year  out,  but  the  real  brotherhood  that 
Christ  preached.  God  the  actual  Father  of  all 
human  beings,  Christ  the  elder  brother." 

"That's  just  what  our  rector  says  almost  every 
Sunday,"  I  murmured  resignedly.  "  It  does  n't 
seem  to  mean  very  much." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,  Anne!"  he  said,  with 
strong  indignation.  "  It  does  n't  mean  anything. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  175 

The  very  men  who  preach  this  gospel  of  brother 
hood  are  sleek  and  well  fed  in  their  broadcloth 
and  silk.  They  jostle  one  another  in  their 
scramble  for  big-salaried  churches.  They  soothe 
and  coddle  the  rich  members  of  their  congrega 
tions.  They  have  turned  the  fiery  sayings  of 
the  Master  into  meaningless  platitudes,  which 
they  chant  monotonously  into  the  drowsy  ear 
of  humanity.  Tell  your  rich  woman  that 
Christ  meant  just  ^vhat  he  said.  Tell  her  to 
obey,  if  she  dares,  and  enter  into  the  king 
dom." 

"What  would  she  find  there?"  I  asked.  "Re 
member  she  is  a  woman  and  alone  in  the  world. 
If  she  becomes  poor,  what  could  she  do  ? " 

"  God  is  her  Father,  and  she  need  fear 
nothing,"  he  answered.  "  The  kingdom  means 
abundance,  Anne.  Not  the  abundance  of  the 
muck-rake  and  the  moth-eaten,  rust-corrupted 
hoard,  but  the  boundless  opulence  of  the 
Father's  house.  If  the  world  could  only  see 
that  once!  Why,  Anne,  when  Christ  wanted 
money  to  pay  tribute  with,  he  got  it  from  a 
fish's  mouth.  When  he  wanted  bread  to  feed 


176  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

the  multitudes,  he  created  it  out  of  viewless  air. 
These  are  not  idle  tales,  child.  They  are  facts, 
and  point  the  way  to  the  most  tremendous  dis 
coveries.  Christ  was  not  poor.  He  was  con 
scious  of  boundless  resources  right  at  hand. 
No  child  of  God  need  fear  present  poverty,  nor 
hoard  for  a  rainy  day,  nor  want  —  anything. 
Your  rich  woman  cannot  find  out  these  things 
about  the  Father  till  she  lets  go  her  foolish 
money.  She  must  let  it  go,  Anne,  and  you 
must  make  her  do  it.  You  can.  And  I  hon 
estly  believe  that  is  your  mission  in  life.  You 
would  not  have  come  to  me  else."  His  eyes 
glowed.  His  whole  face  was  transfigured. 

"  Oh,  why  are  you  a  foundry-man  ?  "   I  cried. 

"  Why  was  Christ  a  carpenter  ? "  he  answered. 

I  was  silent  for  a  long  minute,  and  the  monoto 
nous  drip  and  gurgle  of  the  water-pipes  filled 
the  air  with  a  sad  murmur  of  sound.  "  You  are 
going  away,"  I  whispered  miserably.  "  I  shall 
never  see  you  again." 

"  I  don't  know,  Anne,"  he  said  quietly.  "  No 
one  can  say  as  to  that.  It  depends  altogether 
on  what  we  are  meant  to  be  to  each  other. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  177 

Sometimes  I  have  thought  — "  he  stopped  short, 
and  looked  at  me  fixedly. 

I  met  his  eyes  unwaveringly.  And  so  we 
looked  at  one  another  for  a  moment  —  or  an 
eternity.  And  in  that  space  I  resolved  to  give 
up  my  money. 

"  I  think  we  shall  meet  again,  Anne,"  he  said 
softly.  "And  now,  good-by." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  me  on  my  forehead. 
My  eyes  were  blinded  with  a  sudden  rush  of 
tears.  When  I  could  see  once  more  he  was 
gone,  and  the  rain  was  filling  the  silence 
with  a  desolate  murmur  of  sound.  Good-by  — 
good-by ! 


CHAPTER   XV 

I  AM  torn  with  a  thousand  doubts  and  anxie 
ties  about  my  future.  I  must  give  up  my 
money,  but  I  have  n't  the  slightest  idea  how  to 
go  at  it.  Everything  is  absolutely  mine,  to  be 
sure,  and  has  been  since  I  was  twenty-one.  I 
suppose  there  are  any  number  of  charitable 
boards,  and  missionary  enterprises  and  "  causes," 
which  would  make  one  comfortable  gulp  of  a 
fortune  like  mine ;  but  I  don't  want  to  be  like 
the  small  boy  I  saw  in  Florida  last  winter  who 
threw  his  piece  of  cake  to  a  pet  alligator.  He 
came  running  to  his  mother  in  great  distress  of 
mind.  "  He  did  n't  even  chew  it,  mother,"  he 
complained ;  "  he  just  opened  his  mouth  once, 
and  it  was  gone." 

If  one  is  to  give  up  one's  cake,  it  would  be  a 
satisfaction  to  see  it  chewed. 

Then  there  is  Aunt  Nugent.  I  offered  to 
read  out  of  the  Bible  to  her  on  Sunday  after- 
178 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  179 

noon.  She  was  delighted.  "  Do,  dear  child," 
she  purred,  and  settled  herself  in  her  most 
cushiony  chair,  and  closed  her  eyes  with  a 
beatific  smile. 

I  read  the  nineteenth  chapter  of  Matthew. 

"  Beautiful !  "  murmured  Aunt  Nugent,  sleepily. 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  I  urged,  rather 
excitedly.  "  I  am  a  rich  woman,  aunt,  and  you 
see  what  I  must  do  if  I  really  want  to  be 
saved." 

She  opened  her  eyes  wide  at  this.  "  Oh,  my 
dear,  dear  child,  how  I  have  prayed  for  this 
hour,"  she  gurgled  softly ;  "and  to  think  that  you 
have  really  begun  to  think  seriously  on  the 
subject  of  religion.  I  'm  sure  I  never  expected 
such  a  thing." 

"  I  'm  not  talking  about  the  subject  of  reli 
gion,"  I  said  crossly,  "  I  'm  talking  about  my 
money.  Don't  you  see  I  must  give  it  all  up  ? 
That 's  what  he  said,  and  he  meant  it,  too." 

"  Who  said  such  an  absurd  thing,  Anne  ? " 
demanded  Aunt  Nugent.  "  Pray  hand  me  my 
camphor  bottle,  child.  I  really  cannot  bear  any 
more  excitement." 


180  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  fetched  the  camphor  from  the  dressing-table. 
"  It  says  so  in  the  chapter  I  read,  aunt.  Christ 
said  so ;  did  n't  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  sighed  Aunt  Nugent,  with  an  air  of 
strong  relief.  "  What  a  fright  you  did  give  me ! 
I  thought  perhaps  you  'd  fallen  in  with  some  dan 
gerous  reformer.  Do  you  know,  Anne,  I  never 
could  quite  get  over  your  going  to  that  concert 
with  a  common  workman.  How  did  you  ever 
come  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  the  workman,  aunt,"  I  said ; 
"  I  'm  quite  in  earnest.  I  'm  going  to  give  up 
my  money  just  as  soon  as  I  can  make  up  my 
mind  what  to  do  with  it." 

Aunt  Nugent  sat  up  straight.  "You  '11  do 
nothing  of  the  kind,  Anne,"  she  said  with  a 
determination  I  never  dreamed  she  possessed. 
"  People  will  say  you  are  crazy  with  some  reason, 
if  you  don't  stop  talking  such  unheard-of  non 
sense." 

I  saw  there  was  no  use  of  wasting  words,  so 
I  put  down  the  Bible  and  went  out  to  walk.  He 
ought  not  to  have  gone  away.  He  ought  to 
have  stayed  and  told  me  what  to  do. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  181 

There  is  a  lot  said  about  the  difficulties  of 
getting  rich,  but  I  never  heard  any  one  mention 
the  difficulties  connected  with  getting  poor.  I 
am  simply  worn  out  with  them.  I  was  an  idiot 
to  mention  my  plans  to  Aunt  Nugent.  She  has 
made  my  life  a  burden  ever  since  with  a  mix 
ture  of  tracts,  expostulations,  tears,  and  visitors. 
Dr.  Gallatin  has  called  to  see  me  twice.  The 
first  time  he  affected  the  urbane  and  kindly 
ecclesiastical  shepherd  engaged  in  hooking  back 
into  the  way  of  truth  an  eccentric  and  straying 
sheep  —  I  can  hardly  be  termed  a  lamb,  though 
Aunt  Nugent  called  me  one  yesterday  in  a  burst 
of  fervid  emotion. 

"  May  I  ask,  my  dear  Miss  Smith,  what  led 
you  into  this  very  unusual  way  of  thinking  ? " 
he  demanded  smilingly. 

"  It  's  in  the  Bible,"  I  replied  shortly. 

"There  are  many  statements  of  approximate 
truth  in  Holy  Writ,  dear  Miss  Anne,  which  do 
not  apply  personally  to  you  or  to  me,"  he  said 
authoritatively.  "  Our  blessed  Saviour  never  in 
tended  to  lay  down  rigid  rules  for  the  guidance 
of  his  church.  It  is  the  Spirit  which  illumines 


1 82  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

these  difficult  sayings,  my  dear  young  lady,  and 
makes  them  easy  of  comprehension." 

"What  kind  of  a  spirit  do  you  mean,  Dr.  Gal- 
latin  ?  "  I  inquired. 

He  looked  shocked.  "  Surely  you  must  have 
understood  that  I  referred  to  the  third  person 
in  the  Holy  Trinity,  Miss  Smith,"  he  said  se 
verely.  "  That  Spirit  is  ever  with  the  believer, 
instructing  and  guiding  him  into  safe  paths. 
You  believe  this  statement,  do  you  not  ? " 

"  If  I  did  believe  it,  it  would  not  be  necessary 
for  me  to  discuss  the  subject  of  giving  away  my 
money  with  you,  or  any  one,"  I  replied  smartly. 

"  Do  you  feel  that  it  is  the  third  person  in  the 
Trinity  which  directs  you  to  this  course  ? "  he  asked 
pointedly;  "  or  is  it  some  other  influence  ? " 

He  had  me  there.  I  felt  my  face  and  ears 
slowly  taking  fire.  "  You  have  no  right  to  ask 
such  a  question,"  I  murmured  wrathfully. 

"  From  your  spiritual  director  I  fancy  the 
question  would  be  considered  an  eminently  proper 
one,"  he  replied,  with  a  rebuking  smile.  "  It  only 
remains  for  me  to  advise  you  to  spend  much 
time  in  prayerful  consideration  of  your  duty  be- 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  183 

tween  now  and  the  Sabbath,  at  which  time  I 
shall  preach  on  the  duties  of  the  rich,  and  their 
relation  to  the  lower  classes  of  society.  In  the 
meantime  I  must  beg  of  you  to  consider  your 
devoted  and  sorrowing  relative,  who  is  one  of  the 
ripest  and  most  devotional  members  of  my  parish." 
Then  he  asked  for  Aunt  Nugent,  and  I  came 
upstairs  to  my  room.  Sometimes  I  just  hate 
religion  ! 

Ideas  travel.  How  else  does  every  creature 
within  five  hundred  miles,  with  a  gaping  void 
in  his  or  her  individual  purse,  know  all  of  a  sud 
den  that  I  am  willing  to  empty  mine  ?  I  feel 
like  a  dying  camel  in  a  desert,  the  air  overhead 
darkening  with  ominous  wings. 

I  've  had  two  hundred  begging  letters  in  the 
last  three  weeks,  and  the  door  is  besieged  from 
morning  till  night  by  persons  who  "  represent " 
every  conceivable  scheme  for  reforming  and  re 
lieving  wretched  humanity. 

Aunt  Nugent  says  it  is  horrible  —  disgraceful. 
And  for  once  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  her. 
I  don't  mind  the  mud  on  the  reformers'  boots, 


184  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

nor  the  odor  of  boiled  cabbage  and  fried  cakes 
which  seems  to  curiously  enfold  the  reformers 
like  an  aura;  but  I  am  afraid  of  their  hungry 
eyes ;  and  their  whining  voices  fill  me  with 
disgust  and  loathing.  I  must  have  time  to  think 
—  to  consider.  I  will  not  give  father's  fortune 
to  such  people.  It  can't  be  right. 

I  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Taunton  to-day.  He 
was  father's  best  friend,  and  I  respect  him  as 
one  of  the  sanest  men  I  know.  "  Miss  Anne," 
he  said,  "  do  you  know  you  're  trying  to  match 
yourself,  single-handed,  against  one  of  the  great 
est  questions  of  the  ages  ?  Christ  cut  the  knot 
fairly  and  squarely,  and  the  church  weakly  at 
tempted  to  follow  his  teachings  for  a  time.  You 
know  the  story  of  the  apostolic  age,  with  its  '  all 
things  in  common,'  and  its  '  daily  distribution  to 
the  necessities  of  the  saints,'  and  all  that.  It 
did  n't  work.  They  carried  out  one  dead  Ananias 
and  Sapphira  to  be  sure,  but  there  were  too  many 
left  to  tell  their  lies  more  circumspectly.  The 
church  is  full  of  them  now.  And  it 's  a  pretty 
big  proposition  for  one  lone  woman  to  try  and 
turn  the  world- current  back.  Now  I  call  myself 


The  Singidar  Miss  Smith  185 

a  Christian ;  and  I  believe  I  should  be  considered 
a  fair  sample  of  the  church's  product  of  to-day ; 
but  I  know  that  I  'm  no  more  of  a  Christ  than 
the  thief  in  his  cell.  We  're  called  to  be  Christs, 
Anne,  and  we  've  got  to  get  there  in  some  age 
or  other,  in  some  world  or  other,  but  the  time 
has  n't  come  for  most  of  us.  I  simply  cannot 
bring  myself  to  obey  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
I  almost  laugh  aloud  when  I  hear  it  intoned  at 
St.  Andrew's.  Nobody,  including  the  rector  and 
the  curate,  ever  thinks  of  such  a  thing  as  obeying 
it." 

"  I  know  one  man  who  does,"  I  thought  aloud. 

He  looked  at  me  keenly.  "  Don't  be  too  sure 
of  that,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Do  you  want  to  tell 
me  who  he  is  ? " 

"No,"  I  answered  drearily;  "it  does  not  mat 
ter  to  you  —  nor  to  me;  I  shall  never  see  him 
again." 

I  am  so  tired  of  it  all  that  when  Aunt  Nugent, 
after  a  long  and  tearful  preamble,  begged  me  to 
go  to  Baden  with  her  for  the  winter,  I  consented. 
I  know  VV.  B.  is  right;  but  I  can't  fight  the 
battle  alone  —  yet. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

YESTERDAY  I  sat  for  a  long  time  in  front  of  my 
fire  with  this  book  in  my  hands.  I  meant  to  burn 
it;  but  I  could  not.  It  is  all  I  have  left.  If  we 
are  not  to  meet  again,  I  can  at  least  see  him  some 
times  as  he  first  appeared  to  me.  I  know  now 
why  I  stayed  on  and  on  at  Mrs.  Buckle's.  I 
know  why  I  cried  so  deliciously  the  night  Aunt 
Nugent's  telegram  called  me  home.  I  know  why 
I  was  willing  to  give  up  my  money.  There  is 
no  use  in  hiding  it  even  from  myself.  I  love 
him. 

I  know  now  for  all  time  that  beauty  and  money 
and  education  do  not  weigh  a  feather's  weight  in 
the  balance  of  reality. 

Yes,  I  love  him.  That  he  is  poor,  unknown, 
and  lost  to  me  in  the  world-ruck  matters  nothing. 
I  am  glad  —  glad  —  in  the  deepest  depths  of  me. 

To  love  —  to  really  love  —  is  the  most  glorious 
thing  in  this  world  or  any  world.  I  think  now 

iS6 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  187 

that  I  must  always  have  loved  him.  I  have  been 
trying  to  remember  the  shadowy  past  of  me  — 
for  I  have  a  past,  not  measured  by  my  poor  little 
twenty-seven  years. 

I  was  trying  to  remember  something  of  it  last 
night  when  I  fell  asleep.  And  in  my  dreams 
I  saw  him.  He  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
room  filled  with  people.  He  was  speaking,  and 
his  eyes  and  face  shone  with  glorious  thought. 
I  struggled  through  the  crowd.  "  Oh,  why  are 
you  a  foundry-man?"  I  cried. 

"  Anne  !  "  he  said,  and  I  stretched  out  my  arms 
toward  him.  Then  the  room  and  the  people 
faded  away,  and  we  were  standing  together  under 
the  stone  porch  at  St.  Andrew's.  It  was  raining, 
and  the  water-pipes  gurgled  monotonously. 

"Anne!"  he  repeated,  and  touched  his  lips 
to  my  forehead.  "  Don't  you  remember  ?  Don't 
you  understand  ? "  Then  I  saw  many  strange, 
dim  pictures  of  the  past,  and  always  we  two 
were  together.  And  beneath  and  above  all  I  was 
aware  of  some  high,  mysterious  purpose,  unfolding 
into  an  unimaginable  splendor  of  destiny.  I  cried 
aloud  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy  —  and  awoke. 


1 88  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  have  forgotten  the  pictures,  and  the  gray 
curtain  of  common  daylight  has  veiled  the 
glories  of  the  future.  But  I  am  strangely  com 
forted,  none  the  less.  All  is  not  over  between 
us. 

Aunt  Nugent  wishes  to  spend  a  month  in 
England.  So  we  travelled  by  slow  and  com 
fortable  stages  to  Stratford,  where  we  are  in 
stalled  in  the  best  rooms  of  a  picturesque  little 
inn.  Aunt  Nugent  has  interviewed  the  chef 
personally  on  the  subject  of  broths  and  other 
vital  necessities ;  but  she  nevertheless  expresses 
herself  as  being  at  serious  odds  with  her  sur 
roundings. 

"  They  really  do  my  chops  extraordinarily  well, 
Anne,"  she  observed  plaintively  ;  "  but  as  for  sal 
ads  and  sweets,  as  they  call  them,  I  really  fear 
I  shall  have  to  deny  myself  altogether  till  we 
find  some  other  hotel.  I  cannot  assimilate  their 
sodden  tarts  and  lumpy  puddings.  I  have  such 
a  delicate  digestion,  my  love.  I  sometimes  won 
der  how  it  would  seem  to  feel  as  you  do.  I 
dare  say  you  are  never  obliged  to  think  of 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  189 

your  food  at  all.  Pray,  tell  me,  my  love,  did 
you  sleep  well  after  that  gooseberry  pate"  with 
clotted  cream  ?  I  sent  Jane  to  your  room  with 
a  soda-mint  tablet,  but  she  said  she  thought 
you  must  be  asleep.  You  did  n't  answer." 

"I  don't  remember  what  I  ate  for  dinner,"  I 
replied,  "but  I  certainly  slept  well." 

Aunt  Nugent  shook  her  head  with  a  windy 
sigh.  "  Do  you  know,  my  dear,  such  a  diges 
tion  as  that  seems  almost  unladylike  to  me.  I 
cannot  help  feeling  that  the  young  women  of 
this  generation  are  sadly  lacking  in  those  quali 
ties  of  mind  and  heart  that  should  preeminently 
distinguish  them." 

"  I  thought  we  were  talking  about  stomachs,"  I 
said. 

"  Oh,  my  child,  what  a  way  to  put  it !  "  expostu 
lated  Aunt  Nugent.  "  But  you  cannot  look  at  life 
from  my  point  of  view.  Indeed,  you  have  never 
done  so." 

She  smoothed  out  the  folds  of  her  gown  with 
an  air  of  chastened  pride  in  her  own  superior 
discrimination,  and  continued,  "  Could  you  once 
bring  yourself  to  open  your  mind  to  me,  my  child, 


190  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

—  for  I  feel  that  I  do  not  know  all  by  any  means, 

—  I   am  sure  that  I  could   advise   you   for   your 
lasting  good." 

"  Let  's  go  to  London,  aunt,"  I  said  suddenly. 
"They  have  very  decent  salads  and  sweets 
there." 

At  Birmingham,  where  the  train  stopped  for  fif 
teen  minutes,  I  got  out  to  walk  a  bit  on  the  platform. 
There  is  an  open  square  near  the  station,  and  I 
saw  a  great  crowd  of  men  surging  back  and  forth 
in  a  seemingly  aimless  fashion.  "What's  hup?" 
inquired  the  guard  of  a  navvy,  who  stood  at  the 
curb,  staring  stolidly  in  the  direction  of  the  crowd. 

"  Some  Hamerican  chap  or  other  a-chaffin'  of 
the  boys,"  replied  the  fellow.  "  I  'eard  'im  las' 
night  in  Guild  'all.  'E  's  a  rummy  chap,  'e  is." 

The  crowd  opened  suddenly,  and  I  saw  the  man 
at  its  core.  It  was  the  foundry-man.  In  some 
mysterious  fashion  I  had  been  aware  of  it  all  the 
while.  I  ran  back  into  the  train.  "  Aunt  Nugent," 
I  said  breathlessly,  "we  must  stop  here."  I  was 
pulling  down  bags  and  umbrellas  with  reckless 
haste,  when  two  determined  hands  fastened  on  to 
my  jacket.  The  door  slammed  violently,  and  I 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  191 

sank  into  my  seat,  conscious  that  the  train  was 
moving  in  the  noiseless,  gliding  fashion  peculiar  to 
English  railways.  Aunt  Nugent  was  applying 
herself  to  her  smelling-salts,  with  closed  eyes. 
"Did  you  —  dare  to  hold  me  back?"  I  fumed. 

"  Indeed,  I  did,  Anne ;  what  were  you  thinking 
of,  my  Iove3  with  Jane  in  the  rear  compartment, 
too  ?  And  why,  pray,  should  we  get  off  at  Bir 
mingham  ?  There  is  nothing^there  we  want  to  see." 

I  turned  and  strained  my  eyes  after  the  van 
ishing  station.  "  I  saw  something  I  wanted,"  I 
said  mechanically.  "  I  wanted  to  stop ;  I 
thought—" 

"Something  you  wanted!"  repeated  Aunt 
Nugent,  with  a  show  of  mild  indignation.  "What 
could  you  possibly  want  in  Birmingham  that  we 
cannot  find  in  London  ?  How  fortunate  for  you, 
dear  child,  that  a  wise  Providence  placed  you  in 
my  care !  " 

"  Providence  was  far  too  inconsiderate  of  you, 
aunt,"  I  said  gloomily. 

"  Oh,  I  can  bear  it,  my  love,"  sighed  Aunt  Nu 
gent,  patting  my  hand  in  her  own  peculiarly 
irritating  way. 


192  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

\  was  so  wretched  I  let  her  do  it,  and  after  a 
while  she  kissed  me.  What  idiot  invented  kissing, 
I  wonder  ? 

I  made  up  my  mind  over  night  what  I  should 
do.  I  know  it  is  n't  what  any  other  girl  in  my 
place  would  do,  but  I  don't  care.  There  is  n't  any 
other  girl  in  my  place,  for  that  matter. 

I  left  a  note  for  Aunt  Nugent,  telling  her  that  I 
had  been  called  away  on  important  business  and 
should  not  be  at  home  till  evening.  I  enclosed 
fifty  pounds,  and  begged  her  to  spend  the  day  in 
the  shops. 

The  square  at  Birmingham  was  empty  when  I 
stepped  out  on  the  platform.  Curiously  enough, 
the  identical  navvy  lounged  near  the  curb,  staring 
stolidly  into  space.  I  hesitated  for  an  instant, 
then  spoke  to  him.  "  Can  you  tell  me,"  I  asked, 
"  where  I  can  find  the  man  who  was  talking  to  the 
people  yesterday  in  that  square  ?  " 

His  slow  eyes  roved  inquiringly  over  my  per 
son.  "  Was  you  a-meanin'  the  Hamerican  chap, 
leddy  ? "  he  inquired  at  last.  "  An'  w'at  might  a 
leddy  like  you  want  wi'  th'  likes  of  'im  ? " 

"  Never  mind  what  I  want,"  I  said.     "  I  am  an 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  193 

American,"  I  added  hastily.     "  I  knew  Mr.  Brown 
on  the  other  side.     I  want  to  find  him." 

The  navvy  leered  knowingly.  "  She  wants  to 
find  'im  —  eh  ? "  he  said  softly.  "  Now  ain't  that  a 
rummy  go.  Th'  Hamerican  leddy  wants  to  find 
th'  Hamerican  gent  —  she  does.  W'y  not  tak' 
up  wi'  an  honest  Henglishman,  miss,  bein'  as 
yer  on  this  side  th'  water." 

I  walked  smartly  away,  my  face  burning,  called 
a  cabman  and  jumped  into  the  vehicle.  "Where 
to,  leddy  ? "  demanded  the  driver.  I  saw  the 
navvy  slowly  approaching.  "  To  the  park,"  I  said 
hastily.  The  door  slammed,  and  the  cab  rolled 
away.  After  a  block  or  two  I  signalled  the  man 
to  stop.  "  I  will  get  out  here,"  I  explained.  "  I 
prefer  to  walk." 

I  reached  for  my  purse  to  pay  the  man  his 
fare.  It  was  gone.  I  searched  wildly  in  the 
pockets  of  my  jacket,  then  realized  in  one  awful 
minute  that  I  was  alone  and  penniless  in  a  strange 
city. 

The   cabman    instantly   saw   my   predicament. 
"'Urry  up  th'  fare,  mum,"  he  repeated  with  an 
insolent  gesture.     "  Cawn't  wait  'ere  all  day." 
o 


194  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

"  I  've  lost  my  purse,"  I  said  wildly.  "  It 's  been 
stolen  from  me." 

"  Ah  've  'card  the  likes  'afore  from  leddys  o' 
your  sort,"  said  the  cabman,  laying  his  hand  upon 
my  arm  "  Pay  hup  now,  or  ah  '11  gi'e  you  in 
charge." 

I  turned  upon  him  suddenly.  "  Let  go  my 
arm,  sir,"  I  said,  "  or  I  shall  call  the  nearest 
policeman.  I  have  lost  my  purse,  but  I  can 
pay  you."  I  pulled  off  my  glove  and  snatched 
a  jewelled  button  from  my  cuff.  "  Take  that," 
I  said  breathlessly.  "  It  's  worth  your  fare  a 
dozen  times." 

The  fellow  turned  it  over  in  his  grimy  fingers, 
then  thrust  it  back  into  my  hand.  "  Ah  doan  want 
th'  likes  o'  it,"  he  growled  sullenly.  "  Mayhap  it 's 
paste  —  Ah  can't  tell  'un.  Gi'e  us  th'  sparkler 
off  yer  finger,  miss,  an'  ah  '11  call  it  right." 

"  You  '11  call  what  right,  fellow  ? "  demanded  a 
crisp  American  voice  at  my  elbow.  "  I  've  been 
watching  this  affair  from  the  window  for  some 
minutes,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  some 
thing  — •  Good  heavens  —  Anne  !  What  are  you 
doing  here  ?  " 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  195 

My  confused  and  astonished  eyes  rested  upon 
a  tall,  broad-shouldered  young  man,  with  a 
clean-cut,  straight-featured  face.  His  honest 
eyes  met  mine  with  a  humorous  twinkle.  "Have 
you  forgotten  us  already,  Anne  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Mrs.  Ely  will  never  forget  you,  I  can  assure 
you.  Here,  I  '11  pay  this  chap,  and  then  you 
must  come  in  and  explain  yourself.  Mrs.  Ely 
is  right  over  yonder ;  she  '11  be  delighted  to  see 
you  again." 

I  decided  that  I  would  explain  everything  but 
the  purpose  of  my  visit  to  Birmingham  in  the 
course  of  our  short  progress  to  the  hotel  where 
the  Elys  were  stopping.  Mrs.  Ely  was  prettier 
than  ever.  She  kissed  me  enthusiastically  before 
she  knew  that  I  was  anything  more  than  a 
"  twelve-dollar-rahr "  housemaid  out  of  a  place. 

"Oh,  Anne,"  she  cried,  her  brown  eyes 
sparkling  with  tears,  "  I  've  talked  it  over  so 
many  times  with  Dick,  and  we  both  know  we 
owe  a  great  deal  of  our  happiness  to  you. 
Don't  you  remember  how  you  advised  me  to 
invite  daddy  to  visit  us  ?  And  after  he  came 
—  you  remember  the  night  he  came,  Anne  ? 


196  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

What  a  surprise  that  was  for  Dick  —  I  mean 
Mr.  Ely.  But  we  've  been  so  happy  ever  since. 
Daddy  just  loves  Dick  now;  he  's  such  a  splen 
did  business  man — Dick  is,  I  mean.  And 
we  're  going  home  in  a  few  weeks  now,  and  I  'm 
so  glad  to  see  you,  dear  Anne." 

It  was  my  turn  now.  I  explained  my  past 
conduct  as  well  and  as  simply  as  I  was  able. 
It  struck  Mrs.  Ely  as  being  deliciously  funny. 
"  To  think  of  your  being  a  rich  woman  all  that 
time,"  she  trilled,  "and  —  and  making  hash! 
Think  of  that,  Dick  !  It  was  such  good  hash, 
Anne.  I  may  call  you  Anne,  may  n't  I,  dear? 
And  you  taught  me  how  to  darn,  too.  I  Ve 
always  darned  daddy's  and  Dick's  socks  since 
then.  I  love  to  do  it." 

When  Mr.  Hilton  came  in  shortly  after,  the 
whole  story  had  to  be  rehearsed  for  his  benefit. 
He  drew  his  white  brows  together.  "  Are  you 
John  Smith's  daughter  ? "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  Yes,"  I  said ;  "  but  there  are  so  many  John 
Smiths." 

"There  was  just  one  John  Smith  for  me," 
he  said  slowly.  Then  he  made  it  clear  to  me 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  197 

that  he  was  one  of  father's  best  and  dearest 
friends.  I  am  glad  I  have  found  them  all 
again.  It  was  n't  what  I  came  to  Birmingham 
for,  but  I  am  glad  I  did  n't  find  the  foundry- 
man.  I  shan't  try  to  find  him  again.  He  will 
find  me. 

Mr.  Hilton  and  the  Elys  journeyed  up  to 
London  with  me  next  day.  While  the  men 
were  stretching  their  legs  at  a  side  station,  Mrs. 
Ely  bent  toward  me  with  a  pensive  question  in 
her  sweet  brown  eyes.  "Anne,"  she  began  sol 
emnly,  "  why  don't  you  marry  ?  I  've  been 
thinking  and  thinking  about  you  ever  since 
yesterday.  And  do  you  know,  I  believe  you 
need  a  husband.  He  would  have  to  be  a 
fine,  strong,  splendid  man  —  but  oh,  Anne, 
you  'd  be  so  much  happier." 

"Gladys,"  I  answered  (I've  promised  to  call 
her  that),  "you  are  entirely  right.  And  when 
I  find  that  fine,  strong,  splendid  man,  I  mean 
to  marry  him.  And  no  one  shall  keep  me  from 
it." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

WHEN  at  sea,  it  is  Aunt  Nugent' s  custom  to  re 
main  in  her  berth  from  the  time  the  ship  leaves 
one  port  till  it  reaches  another.  She  prepares  for 
the  voyage  by  assuming  a  singularly  constructed 
garment  of  purple  and  white  checked  flannel 
and  a  pair  of  high  laced  boots.  She  complains 
of  the  latter  articles  bitterly ;  but  when  I  urge 
her  to  lay  them  off,  she  invariably  refuses. 

"  One  should  always  be  prepared  for  the  worst, 
Anne,"  she  says  plaintively.  "I  hope  to  be 
found  ready  and  waiting  when  my  time  comes." 

"  But  why  laced  boots,  Aunt  Nugent  ? "  I  in 
quire  mildly.  "  One  would  drown  perfectly  well 
in  knit  slippers,  and  you  know  they  are  much 
more  comfortable." 

"  I  hope  I  understand  my  duty,  Anne,"  is 
her  invariable  reply.  "  I  never  lose  conscious 
ness  for  one  moment,  child,  of  the  depths  of 
ocean  which  yawn  beneath  our  frail  bark.  If  it 

198 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  199 

were  not  for  my  precious  books  of  devotion,  I 
could  never  support  the  voyage." 

I  have  left  her  to  the  care  of  Jane,  who, 
fortunately,  is  never  ill.  Jane  also  wears 
tightly  laced  boots  out  of  respect  to  Aunt 
Nugent.  She  says  it  makes  her  feel  "a  sight 
more  safer"  to  have  them  on. 

No  one  on  board  has  spoken  to  me  yet  but 
the  dyspeptic-looking  woman  who  sits  next  me 
at  table.  This  individual  generously  offered 
me  two  sheets  of  blue-lined  note-paper  to-day, 
which  she  declared  was  a  perfect  preventive 
of  seasickness  if  applied  directly  over  the  pit 
of  the  stomach.  "The  lines,"  added  my  kind 
mentor,  earnestly,  "  should  run  up  and  down, 
perpendicular  to  the  floor  of  the  ocean,  you 
understand." 

I  declined  with  thanks  on  the  ground  that  I 
never  suffer  with  seasickness.  The  sea  begins 
to  make  itself  felt  to-night,  and  I  noticed  that  the 
dyspeptic  lady  was  not  visible.  The  chief  diffi 
culty  with  her  infallible  remedy,  I  fancy,  is  in 
keeping  the  lines  perpendicular  to  the  floor  of 
ocean. 


2OO  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

I  am  wondering  what  I  shall  do  when  I  get 
home.  What  is  home,  anyway  ?  Have  I  ever 
had  one,  I  wonder? 

How  tawdry  and  frail  and  foolish  seem  gildings 
and  plushes  and  mirrors,  how  feeble  and  ineffec 
tual  the  pallid  electric  lights  when  night  and 
storm  stare  in  at  one's  port-holes.  I  went  to 
my  stateroom  last  night  lost  to  all  other  con 
sciousness  save  that  of  the  sea  pursuing  us  unre 
lentingly  from  battling  crest  to  battling  crest. 
I  climbed  into  the  gloomy  recesses  of  my  berth  and 
lay  long  awake,  aware  of  every  desperate  plunge 
of  the  ship,  of  every  quivering,  irresolute  pause 
in  the  yawning  hollow  of  the  surges,  of  every 
determined  struggle  to  the  apex  of  the  next  wave, 
till  at  last  I  was  soothed  in  spite  of  myself  by  the 
long,  swinging  rhythm  of  my  giant  cradle,  and  slept. 

Jane  stood  by  my  berth  when  I  awoke  in  the 
gray  daylight.  She  was  herself  gray  and  di 
shevelled.  "Ain't  it  that  awful,  Miss  Anne?" 
she  began  dolefully.  "  Do  you  suppose  we  '11 
ever  see  land  again  ?  And  is  there  anything  I 
can  do  to  help  you,  miss  ? " 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  201 

"  How  is  Aunt  Nugent  ? "  I  inquired. 

"  It 's  not  a  wink  of  sleep  I  've  took  along  of 
her,  Miss  Anne,"  sniffed  Jane,  disconsolately.  "  I 
changed  her  shoes  for  her  three  times  'twixt  mid 
night  an'  mornin',  an'  she  said  at  six  as  how  she 
was  ready  to  be  offered  a  willin'  sacrifice.  But 
she  's  a-dozin'  off  comfortable  now." 

I  advised  Jane  to  do  likewise,  then  struggled 
into  my  clothes  and  up  to  the  deck. 

At  the  top  of  the  companionway  I  came  upon  a 
group  of  women  passengers,  obviously  furnished 
like  myself  with  digestions  of  an  unladylike  sound 
ness.  They  were  gathered  about  one  of  the 
deck  stewards,  a  small,  oily  person,  with  pale, 
protruding  eyes. 

"  A  steerage  passenger,  you  say  ? "  one  of  the 
women  was  remarking  caustically.  "  Very  well, 
and  what  was  a  steerage  passenger  doing  to  get 
hurt  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  rightly  know,  ma'am  ;  but  they  say 
it  was  this  way.  'E  stepped  out  to  ketch  a  holt 
of  one  of  the  kids,  —  there  's  an  awful  lot  of  'em, 
ma'am,  below,  —  'un  'ad  got  out  some  how  or 
t'other  and  was  like  to  get  washed  over.  But 


2O2  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

this  'ere  chap,  'e  ups  an'  grabs  the  kid,  an'  'ands 
'im  to  his  mother  safe  and  sound.  Then  a  big 
wave  ketches  'im  and  carries  'im  clean  acrost 
decks,  an'  smashes  'im  htip  against  the  rail  — 
like  a  hegg,  ma'am ;  'e  's  in  the  ship's  'orspital, 
ma'am,  an'  'e  '11  'ardly  last  the  day  out,  they  say." 

"  What  is  the  poor  fellow's  name  ? "  inquired 
another. 

"  Well,  ma'am,  I  hasked  the  very  same  ques 
tion  myself,  an'  I  was  struck  all  of  a  'cap,  as  you 
may  say,  ma'am,  to  find  it  was  same  as  my  hown. 
I  'm  thinkin'  I  '11  'ave  to  cable  back  to  t'other  side 
d'rectly  we  make  port,  or  my  wife  '11  be  puttin'  on 
th'  black  for  me.  But  'ow  a  poor  chap  like  me 
with  six  little  'uns  is  goin'  to  spare  the  money  — 
oh,  thank  you  very  kindly,  ma'am,  an'  you, 
ma'am." 

He  turned  to  me  with  a  sidelong  bow.  "  What 
is  your  name  ?  "  I  demanded. 

"  Willyum  Brown,  ma'am,"  replied  the  steward. 

There  are  probably  as  many  William  Browns  in 
the  world  as  there  are  Anne  Smiths,  but  I  never 
doubted  for  an  instant  that  it  was  my  William 
Brown  who  lay  crushed  and  dying  in  the  ship's 
hospital. 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  203 

I  followed  the  steward  as  he  sidled  away  with  a 
deprecating  smile.  "  You  must  take  me  to  the 
ship's  hospital,"  I  whispered ;  "  I  must  see  that 
man." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  ma'am,"  murmured  the 
man,  mechanically ;  "  but  you  '11  'ave  to  ask  the 
doctor,  ma'am." 

I  found  the  doctor.  I  don't  remember  how  — 
nor  where  —  nor  what  arguments  I  used  to  over 
come  his  strenuous  objections.  But  after  what 
seemed  hours  of  delay,  I  was  standing  beside  the 
narrow  bed  in  the  ship's  hospital,  and  looking 
down  on  the  swathed  and  motionless  figure  of 
the  man  I  loved.  His  eyes  were  closed,  and  for 
the  first  time  —  or  the  millionth  —  I  noticed  the 
extreme  beauty  of  his  forehead  beneath  the  damp 
masses  of  heavy  reddish  hair. 

"  We  are  unable  to  determine  the  exact  extent 
of  the  man's  injuries,"  said  the  cold,  professional 
voice  of  the  reluctant  surgeon.  "  But  it  must  be 
evident  to  you,  madam,  that  you  can  be  of  no 
service  whatever  in  the  case.  The  probabilities  are 
that  he  will  never  arouse  from  this  state  of  coma." 

I    turned   upon   that   surgeon    suddenly,   some- 


204  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

thing  big  and  powerful  and  compelling  rising 
within  me  like  a  tide.  "  He  will  arouse  from  it," 
I  said  quietly.  "  He  will  recover.  Do  you  hear 
me  ?  He  is  going  to  live." 

I  bent  over  the  quiet  figure.  "You  will  not 
die,"  I  said  softly,  and  the  tides  of  that  strange 
power  seemed  to  stream  out  from  my  very  finger 
tips.  "  You  will  live  —  live  —  live  !  " 

If  I  spoke  other  words,  I  know  not.  I  seemed 
caught  up  into  a  rapture  of  life  —  life  eternal,  un 
changing,  ever  present!  Whether  in  a  moment 
or  an  aeon  —  he  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at 
me. 

"  You  ? "  he  breathed  faintly,  and  smiled.  "  Do 
not  leave  me,"  he  said  again. 

Two  days  later  I  stole  quietly  into  Aunt  Nu- 
gent's  stateroom.  "Aunt,"  I  said,  "the  sea  is 
very  quiet  to-day.  Do  you  think  you  could  get 
up  and  dress  long  enough  to  come  to  my  wed 
ding  ? " 

"To  your  —  what?"  almost  screamed  my  only 
surviving  female  relation. 

"  To  my  wedding,  aunt,"  I  repeated  calmly.    "  I 


TJie  Singular  Miss  Smith  205 

am  to  be  married  to  William  Brown  in  the  ship's 
hospital  at  ten  o'clock.  It  is  now  nine.  Will 
you  come  ? " 

Of  course  copious  and  annotated  explanations 
were  in  order,  and  they  were  forthcoming.  Aunt 
Nugent  only  wept  piteously.  "  I  would  n't  mind 
your  being  married,  Anne,"  she  sniffed;  "you 
know  I  have  never  wanted  you  to  be  an  old 
maid.  But  to  a  steerage  passenger,  oh,  Anne  — 
Anne  —  Anne  !  What  would  your  poor,  dear 
father  say  ? " 

"  He  would  be  glad  —  he  is  glad,"  I  replied 
stoutly,  "because  I  am  going  to  marry  the  man 
I  love.  Won't  you  come,  aunt  ?  " 

The  old  primitive  longing  for  a  woman  to 
stand  by  one  in  that  hour  of  hours  came  over 
me.  "  Please  come,  aunt,"  I  repeated  gently. 

Aunt  Nugent  put  one  tightly  booted  foot  out 
of  her  berth.  Then  she  dropped  her  best  blue- 
and-gold  copy  of  Dr.  Pilkington  into  a  cup  of 
cold  tea.  "  Call  Jane,"  she  said  firmly.  "  I  shall 
certainly  come  if  you  want  me  to,  my  child." 

Dear  Aunt  Nugent,  I  have  never  loved  her 
half  enough.  But  I  shall  love  her  dearly  after 


206  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

this.      I  shall  love  everybody.      Oh,  it  was  only 
love   that  I  wanted.      It  is  love  that  everybody 
wants.     Not  money  —  not  power  —  not  things  — 
but   love.      And    the    universe    is    filled   with    it. 
There  is  enough  for  all. 

We  have  been  married  three  days.  To-morrow 
we  reach  port.  My  husband  is  almost  well.  "  His 
injuries  proved  to  be  not  so  serious  as  I  feared," 
says  the  surgeon,  complacently. 

But  I  know  better  —  we  know  better.  He  was 
drifting  swiftly  out  upon  that  serene  and  limitless 
sea  which  all  of  us  know  from  age-long  experience. 
But  he  heard  me  call  and  came  back  for  a  while. 

This  morning  while  we  sat  together  quietly  in 
a  sheltered  nook  on  deck,  he  turned  to  me  with 
an  air  of  sudden  resolve.  "  Anne,"  he  said,  "  I 
must  tell  you  something  which  perhaps  you  ought 
to  have  known  in  the  beginning.  I  am  not 
always  a  foundry-man  —  nor  a  steerage  passenger. 
I  am  a  teacher,  Anne;  I  try  to  teach  young  men 
—  yes,  and  young  women  too  —  the  truth  about 
God's  plan  for  us  in  this  world.  And  in  order 
to  do  this  I  have  tried  living  in  many  ways  and 


The  Singular  Miss  Smith  207 

in  many  places.  That  is  why  I  went  to  Eng 
land  this  summer.  I  wanted  to  study  the 
English  working-man  —  as  I  had  studied  the 
American  working-man  —  closer  at  hand.  I 
wanted  to  find  out  many  things  which  I  did  not 
know  about  his  thoughts  and  his  ways." 

I  was  listening  in  breathless  silence. 

"  My  name,"  he  went  on,  with  a  queer  little 
half-smile,  "is  William  Brown.  People  some 
times  call  me  Dr.  William  Rutherford  Brown, 
Anne.  I  am  said  to  teach  sociology  and  ethics 
at  Harvard  University.  You  don't  mind,  do  you, 
Anne  ?  I  did  not  mean  to  deceive  you,  dear." 

"  And  you  married  me !  "  I  faltered,  quite  over 
come  by  the  greatness  of  his  love.     "  You  loved 
—  me,   a   poor,    ignorant,  foolish   servant-maid?" 
For  all  this  time  he  had  curiously  taken  it  for 
granted  that  I  was  Aunt  Nugent's  maid. 

"I  married  —  my  wife,"  he  said  slowly,  in  that' 
wonderful  voice  of  his  which  still  vibrates  in  the 
depths    of    me   with    an    almost    intolerable    joy. 
"  You  are  mine,  Anne.      Nothing  else  matters  — 
nothing.      Nothing   shall  ever   come  between  us 
again."     He  said  this  with  an  air  of  stern  finality 


2O8  The  Singular  Miss  Smith 

as  if  putting  down  for  the  last  time  some  teasing 
inward  doubt. 

"Then  you  will  forgive  —  me,"  I  faltered, 
"  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not  always  a  servant ; 
I  am  that  unhappy  rich  woman  I  told  you  of. 
And,  oh,  dear  foundry-man,  I  have  n't  given  my 
money  away  yet.  I  did  n't  know  how  to  do  it 
alone.  But  you  will  help  me." 


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THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

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of  such  men  and  women  as  we  all  know.  Yet  it  is  far  from  being  a  commonplace  story; 
it  is  full  of  human  everyday  types,  vivified  and  shown  to  be  full  of  meaning. 

A  FOREST  HEARTH.     A  Romance  of  Indiana  in  the  Thirties.     By 

CHARLES  MAJOR,  author  of  "Dorothy  Vernon  of  Iladdon  Hall," 
"  When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower,"  etc.  With  illustrations  by 
CLYDE  O.  DELANO.  Cloth  lamo  $1.50 

A  sunny,  human  love  story  faithfully  picturing  the  adventurous,  indomitable  pioneer 
elements  which  came  from  all  ranks  and  parts  to  unite  in  the  present  State  of  Indiana. 


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HOLT  OF  HEATHFIELD.    By  CAROLINE  A.  MASON. 

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The  book  contains  some  delightfully  pungent  illustrations  of  the  range  of  claims 
made  upon  a  young  and  popular  minister  by  the  widely  varying  elements  in  the  average 
congregation. 

THE  LITERARY   SENSE.      By   E.    NESBIT.      Cloth     i2mo    $1.50 

"  Clever,  witty,  and  wise,  full  of  subtle  humor,  and  graceful  in  style."  —  Pittsburg 
Gazette. 

ANNE  CARMEL.     By  GWENDOLEN  OVERTON.     Cloth    izmo    $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  uncommon  beauty  and  depth  ...  In  every  way  an  unusual  book."  - 
Louisville  Times. 

THE  AMERICAN  PRISONER:  A  Romance  of  the  West  Country. 
By  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS,  Author  of  "  Children  of  the  Mist,"  "  My 
Devon  Year,"  "The  River,"  "The  Human  Boy,"  "Sons  of  the 
Morning,"  "  Lying  Prophets,"  etc.  With  Illustrations  by  CLAUDE 
A.  SHEPPERSON.  Cloth  i2mo  $1.50 

"  Intensely  readable  .  .  .  perfectly  admirable  in  Its  elemental  humor  and  racy  turns 
of  speech."  —  The  Spectator,  London. 

THE  KEY  OF  PARADISE.    By  SIDNEY  PICKERING. 

Cloth    i2tno    $1.50 

A  story  of  a  little  Italian  princess  who  has  been  told  that  to  find  the  key  of  Paradise 
"  one  has  only  to  love  with  the  great  love  and  be  loved  in  return." 

HETTY  WESLEY.  By  A.  C.  QUILLER-COUCH,  Author  of  "Dead 
Man's  Rock,"  '-The  Splendid  Spur,"  etc.  Cloth  izmo  $1.50 

"  As  the  actual  life  of  a  real  woman  .  .  .  this  story  of  a  great  woman,  the  sister  and 
equal  of  great  men,  cuts  deep  into  life.  What  the  author  has  done  has  been  to  realize  it, 
absorb  it,  live  each  moment  of  it  in  his  inner  self,  and  then  write  it  down,  with  the  intense 
conviction  that  is  another  name  for  inspiration,  and  leaving  something  of  excitement  and 
elevation  behind  it."  —  The  London  Times. 

CHILDREN  OF  THE  TENEMENTS.    By  JACOB  A.  Rus. 

Cloth    izmo    $1.50 

They  are  true  stories,  and  go  straight  to  the  heart,  some  funny,  some  pathetic.  All 
of  them  have  come  directly  under  the  author's  eyes  and  are  direct  telling  pictures  which 
make  clear  as  no  other  medium  could,  the  conditions  confronted  in  "  The  Battle  with  the 
Slum." 


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THE  DAY  BEFORE  YESTERDAY.    By  SARA  ANDREW  SHAKER. 

Cloth    i2mo    $1.50 

"  This  is  one  of  the  pleasan test  books  of  the  year.  .  .  .  The  story  leaves  an  impres 
sion  of  cleanness  and  coolness  and  sweet  living  on  the  memory." 

—  New  York  Evening:  Post. 

THE  FAT  OF  THE  LAND.     The  Story  of  an  American  Farm.    By 
JOHN  WILLIAMS  STREETER.  Cloth     i2mo    $1.50  net 

"  There  is  a  cheerful  spirit  throughout,  and  the  book  strengthens  our  love  of  the  soil 
and  of  getting  close  to  nature.'" —  The  Outlook. 

THE  PRICE  OF  YOUTH.    By  MARGERY  WILLIAMS. 

Cloth    i2mo    $1.50 

"  The  story  is  markedly  original  .  .  .  and  is  admirably  told,  in  a  manner  that  is 
really  convincing." —  Louisville  Post. 

THE  MAGIC  FOREST.     By  STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE. 

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"It  is  marvellous  how  Mr.  White  has  caught  the  outdoor  atmosphere.  .  .  .  The  result 
is  a  real  triumph  of  art.  No  better  book  could  Be  put  in  a  young  boy's  hands,  and  his 
elders  can  read  it  with  equal  pleasure."  —  The  New  York  Sun. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  SERVICE.    By  EDITH  ELMER  WOOD. 

Cloth     lamo    £1.50 

An  uncommonly  bright  and  breezy  story  of  "  the  New  Navy." 

AUNT  JIMMY'S  WILL.    BY  MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT. 

Cloth    i2rao    $1.50 

A  story  which  will  delight  all  the  young  people  who  know  how  a  thirteen-year-old  girl 
feels,  and  t'.iat  will  interest  helpfully  very  many  older  ones  who  may  have  forgotten.  Best 
of  all,  it  is  a  book  to  spread  a  gospel  of  sunshine. 

PEOPLE   OF   THE   WHIRLPOOL.     By  the  author  of  "The  Garden  of 
a  Commuter's  Wife."  Cloth     i2mo     $1.50 

"  The  whole  book  is  delicious,  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its  just  perspcctions 
of  the  true  values  of  things,  its  clever  pen  pictures  of  people  and  customs,  and  its  healthy 
optimism  for  the  great  world  in  general." —  Philadelphia  Telegraph. 


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